Night had settled over Camelot, the tendrils of light gradually fading further and further away until all was darkness. Apart from in the chambers of the crowned Prince of the Kingdom, Arthur Pendragon. Normally, the young prince would be long asleep but tonight was different. Tonight, he was celebrating the New Year with the King's ward, Lady Morgana. She was his light, the moonlight in the darkness that came with his seemingly never-ending responsibilities. Being King once scared him but not anymore. Not now that he had her by his side. It was hard to believe that only a few weeks ago, he turned to see that stunning mystery walking towards him down the aisle. How could the Gods have graced him so to have her as his wife? Although the thoughts sent butterflies in that valiant heart of his, he couldn't help but chuckle. If somebody had told him only seven years ago that he was to marry her, he would have been dismayed. And now he could not imagine being beside any other.

"Come now, Morgana," he said as he dodged one final bit of bread that she had thrown at him. "I simply meant-..."

"Oh, I would not continue your sentence, Arthur Pendragon. Now take it back," Morgana snapped, her dangerous emerald eyes looking even more magnificent as her rage washed through her skin, reflected in the candlelight. She huffed and crossed her arms over her nightgown clad chest. The one thing that had not changed in their many years together was their ever-persistent bickering. She finally raised her gaze to his and quirked her signature brow. "Well? Have you nothing to say?"

Arthur had his lips pursed, his blue eyes dancing with his playful nature. "...I shall not take back that which is true, Lady Pendragon," he teased, leaning forward and craning his head towards her. "Besides, it is only one grey hair."

Morgana groaned in frustration and quickly stood, pulling away from his attempt at a kiss as she blew out the candle on her side of the bed and crawled beneath the sheets - her actions resembling that of a child having a tantrum. "Goodnight, Arthur," she spat, burying her face in the pillow.

Arthur stood, too, biting down hard on his knuckle to stop from guffawing at his bride. Gods, she was something else. As he watched her from the foot of the bed with her knees curled up to her chest and her ebony hair tumbling over her shoulder in beautiful waves, he couldn't help but smile. She truly was magnificent.

And her rage made her all the more appealing to him. He chuckled lowly to himself, shaking his head as he moved around the bed. He blew out his candle before he slipped underneath the sheets. "Morgana..." he whispered as he shifted closer towards her. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, smirking into her skin when he saw goosebumps rise on her arm. "My darling wife..."

But she was still persistant and kept her face turned away from him, huffing in exasperation. He was such a pain; he knew just how to worm his way around her. What she hated more was the fact that she had to bury her face in the pillow to hide the smile on her face. "I said 'goodnight', Pendragon," she mumbled but he heard the smile in her voice, mirroring it himself.

Knowing that he was now not truly in trouble, he leaned forward to brush the hair from her eyes, letting his roughened fingers smooth through the soft curls.

"Ow!" Morgana screeched as she felt the short, sharp pain in her head that signalled he had pulled one of the strands out. She sharply looked over her shoulder only to be met with his boyish grin.

"Got it," he said but any further teasing was cut off as with a 'that's it!', he was thrown onto his back and Morgana was on top of him, hands thumping at his chest. She would never truly hurt him, not really, but he couldn't deny that when she grasped his ear between her slender fingers, maybe his theory was invalid. "Ow!"

"Do you submit, my champion?" she asked, her tongue shaping the words in such a way that always made Arthur's heart beat faster, flaring his hopeless attraction and love for her.

"Never, my lady," he smirked, raising his hand to catch her wrist with it and bringing it down to his lips. His eyes glinted as they flicked to meet hers and locked them effortlessly. Keeping them fixed on hers, he continued to pepper kisses on her skin, moving them further up her arm until he captured her lips with his.

Soon enough, she melted into him and wrapped her arms around him, their lips moving against one another in playful, wrestling movements.

But Arthur was caught in surprise when, as his hands moved to slip the strap of her night gown off her shoulders, Morgana stilled his hands, pulling back. In a daze from their kiss, his eyes slowly opened to meet hers and he frowned. "Wha-..."

"You honestly didn't think you would get let off that easily, did you?" Morgana asked, her lips pulled into a smirk as she rolled off of him. She quickly returned to his side, though, her body fitting beside his like a puzzle as she rested her head on his chest. "Oh, hush," she laughed as he whined, pouting down at her. "We must sleep or you will be in no fit state to hunt tomorrow."

As always, it seemed, she was right so Arthur gave in with a grumble as he buried his face in her sweet smelling hair. "Goodnight, Morgana."

However, the peace that had settled over the room did not last for long as Morgana's skin began to prickle with heat, beads of sweat lining her brow. Arthur knew the signs well; she was having a nightmare.

But he also knew not to wake her - not yet. Recently, they had become more violent, more frightening.

But they only ever focussed on one thing or rather one man; Emrys. She dreamt of him every night no matter what.

And as his name escaped her pale lips in a frightened whimper, Arthur's fears were confirmed. His hands moved to her hair, gently running his fingers through it. "It's alright, Morgana," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're safe. It's just a dream."

She did not register the pain at first. Rather, she noticed the irony taste suddenly flooding her mouth.

And yet the pain of the knife in her back was nothing compared to that of the pain that was cutting through her heart as she looked down at the man in her arms. Arthur was spluttering, blood pouring from his side and his eyes wide in both anguish and shock as he saw his wife, the light in his life, attacked. She followed his line of sight and gasped as she saw the looming figure behind her, his spindly fingers still curled around the hilt of the knife now embedded in her back. Tears poured from her eyes, leaving tracks down her cheeks but that only seemed to heighten the pleasure written across Emrys' features.

"Ho-...how coul-..." she sputtered but the old sorcerer merely pressed his finger to her lips.

"You can't escape your destiny, Morgana. Nor your doom. And I-...am both," he grinned through his wispy beard as he pulled the knife from her back, relishing in the cry that escaped her lips before he moved to bring it down on her once more; a surely fatal blow.

But she didn't focus on that. She focussed on the sound of Arthur's desperate roar of her name.

The scream that escaped her lips shattered Arthur's heart as he pulled the shaking Morgana back down to his chest, soothing her gently but firmly so she could hear him amidst her cries. "Morgana, Morgana, you're safe now. You're with me. It was a nightmare, my love," he whispered, his lips pressed to her burning forehead.

Morgana clutched him tightly, tears spilling down her cheeks as she shook violently. "H-he haunts me, Arthur," she whispered, her breath coming in short, sharp spurts. "He's coming to-...k-kill me. Every night, he tells me I can't es-...I can't escape him. I never will. No matter where I run or hide, he will always find me. Always, always..." she trailed off, her slim form lurching with sobs as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

Arthur's strong jaw was locked in determination. It killed him every night to see her like this. So terrified of a phantom that they had laid eyes upon in reality only once. He swore to her once that he would fight whatever powers fought to take her from him, that nothing ever would.

And he certainly would not let this-...Emrys make him break his promise. "No," he said simply, his hand reaching down to tilt her chin up with his forefinger. "No, Morgana. You can escape from him and you will. I'll find him. And I'll never, ever let him hurt you."

Morgana's lips parted to protest; he was too dangerous, they didn't stand a chance.

And she was yet to tell him the part he played in her dream. "Ar-..."

But he merely raised a hand to stop her, shaking his head. "I won't let him," he said through gritted teeth. "Now, sleep. Tomorrow, it will be decreed."

As Arthur made his way to the banquet hall to dine with his father, he knew that he could not tell him about Morgana's dreams. They were visions of the future and therefore sorcery. Even though she was his ward-...he did not want to risk Morgana's safety even in the slightest. He cleared his throat to indicate to the guards to open the doors and stepped inside, greeting his father with a smile.

"Happy new year, father," he said as he took a seat opposite him. "Merlin," he nodded in acknowledgement as he saw his manservant and close friend opposite him.

Merlin inclined his head, decidely not saying anything but offering the prince a cheeky smile.

"Happy new year, Arthur," Uther replied with a smile as he ripped more bread from his plate. As he chewed, his wrinkled brow furrowed. "No Morgana this morning?"

Arthur shook his head solemnly, the night before still fresh in his mind as Merlin filled his goblet with a sweet tea. "She did not sleep well last night. I thought it best to leave her to catch up on her rest."

Uther nodded, raising his goblet to meet with Arthur's. "A wise choice, my son. You are good to your wife," he finished his sentence with a smile as he sipped from his goblet.

Arthur's gaze flitted down to his plate as his fingers nervously fiddled with the cured ham on there. "Actually, father, that is what I have been meaning to speak to you about..." he started, earning a look of alarm from the King. "Nothing-...nothing like that. We're good, we're amazing, actually. But-...I have heard rumours." The young prince was beginning to scold himself; why had he not thought this through more thoroughly? He was terrible at improvisation; whereas Morgana seemed-...unnervingly skilled at it.

"Go on," Uther urged, leaning forward in his seat with concerned interest.

"I have heard rumours that there are plots against Morgana's safety," Arthur continued, his fist clenched beneath the table. "And all rumours center around the name 'Emrys'." With that, he was broken from his thoughts as a clatter resounded all throughout the hall. His eyes darted to Merlin who had dropped the jug, staring at the pair with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. "Did you have too much to drink last night, Merlin, or are we just graced with your idiocy once more?" he snapped as Merlin hurriedly broke from his reverie and began to mop it up.

"S-sorry, sire."

Uther merely rolled his eyes at the clumsy oaf as he returned his attention to his son. "And how do you wish to sort this, Arthur?"

For a moment, Arthur was caught off guard. He had unwittingly come to his father for an answer; he normally had an answer to everything. "Well, I-..."

"I know," Uther said, nodding with a fond smile on his face. "I know that you think that I can solve everything but-...I am old, Arthur. It will not be long before you will be King. And you are a husband, now. It is time you start making decisions for yourself."

Arthur licked at his suddenly dry lips before nodding. "I understand, father." He paused for a moment, swallowing back the nerves building in his throat until he felt as if he was being throttled. "Issue a decree," he said, raising his head to emphasise his authority. "Five hundred gold pieces to whomever brings Emrys to me. I want him alive. I need to see him."

Uther's heart swelled with pride as he clapped his son on the shoulder. "It shall be done, Arthur."

The two of them were too busily wrapped up in their plans to notice a clammy-handed Merlin clutching at the wall as all breath seemed to escape his lungs.

Still shaking, Merlin made his way to Arthur and Morgana's chambers. His breath was shuddering; he was safe. He had to be. His destiny was to protect Arthur.

And he would not let it be foiled by Morgana's visions. Resting his forehead against the wood of the door, he took a deep breath before knocking. He waited for a moment before he heard a sleepy 'come in' and he followed instruction, turning the doorknob and stepping inside.

His eyes searched until they found Morgana's form, notoriously waiting by the window, looking out at nothing at all. Her hand was rested on the edge of it, the crinkle in the middle of her brow showing that her mind was elsewhere. She turned to face him and offered him a genuine smile. Since she had returned to Camelot, they had become close friends. Or so she had thought.

"Merlin," she said, stepping forward to come closer to him. "Happy new year."

Normally, he would have paid attention to every word from the future queen's mouth but, the same as her, his mind was elsewhere. "What?" he asked, rather rudely before he blushed and looked to the floor. "Oh, right. Yeah, happy new year-...my lady," he quickly added, licking at his lips.

His manner unnerved Morgana and she stepped closer, her hand raising to rest on his upper arm. "Merlin, is everything alright? You're pale..." she said, her voice riddled with nothing but worry.

Merlin was never one to fully reveal his emotions, normally shrugging off any worries with some spun story about how he had slept poorly the night before or that he was coming down with a cold.

But today was different. Today, he was different.

"You can't let him, Morgana," he blurted sharply, his eyes raising to lock hers in an intense stare.

Morgana was taken aback by the tone of his voice and this showed as her hand fell from his shirt. "What do you mean?"

"You can't let him decree this-...manhunt on Emrys," Merlin muttered, his confidence waning as he saw the fury crossing over into the young woman's features.

She crossed her arms and dipped her head, fingers digging into her elbows. "And why not?" she snapped, each syllable hitting him like a knife.

He didn't even notice the tears that had filled his eyes until his vision began to blur but he blinked them away. He was being too obvious; he needed to relax and calm down.

"He is a sorcerer, Morgana. He is one of your kind," he said, lowering his gaze to escape hers. "I know you wish for Camelot and those with magic to align and you will not do that if you encourage their slaughter. You cannot condone the murder of your own kind."

Morgana's lips twitched as she listened to him, eyes darting over his face. Something was wrong. She didn't know what it was but-...it was something. He was holding something back from her.

"Would he do the same?" she objected, eyebrow quirking. "No. He wouldn't. I have seen it, Merlin, he has no qualms in killing his own kind. Every night, he-...smiles as he kills me." Her voice cracked but she lifted her chin to remain firm.

"So that means that he deserves to die?" Merlin snapped, his voice raising above his station. "Because you dreamt that he killed you?" His fists were clenched at his side, the urge to use magic against her - to silence that ever babbling, unknowing mouth - bubbling through his veins.

"What has happened to you, Merlin?" Morgana shouted, her hands shooting out to the side. "Why are you standing up for him? I am your friend and I am soon to be your Queen, you cannot wish for me to-..."

But then something stopped her. She knew him better than this. He would not fight for something that was wrong unless-...unless he held it close to his heart. Her hands slowly lowered to her side as she felt her heartbeat quicken, her throat closing up. "You know who he is," she stated, nothing of a question in her tone.

Would that be better? Would he be in less trouble if he said that Emrys was his friend? His family? He knew that matters of the heart always played with Morgana's heart strings. Perhaps-...perhaps he could persuade her. Or at least deter her long enough for him to think of another plan.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice gravelly with the painful throbbing in his throat that felt as if there was broken glass scraping the edge of it.

A whimper was released from her lips as she stood back, gripping the chair to stable herself. How could he do this to her? He was her friend-...wasn't he? He knew how terrified she was of Emrys and yet he-...he knew him? A single tear flitted down her face but she quickly pushed it away, keeping her gaze fixed to the floor. Silence filled the chambers with nothing but their breaths echoing between the stone walls.

"Tell me," she whispered finally, her broken eyes meeting his.

"I-..." Merlin started, the words startling him.

"Tell me!" Morgana screamed suddenly, desperation flooding and cracking her voice as she raised her hand, her eyes glowing golden. With that, Merlin was thrown back against the door, slumping to the floor with a pained groan. For a moment, she regretted it but her mind was focussed on what her friend knew. She stormed towards him, kneeling by his side, her hand fisting around his neckerchief. "Tell me, Merlin, or I swear I'l-..."

"It's me," he whimpered, his head throbbing. He hadn't expected her to do that and was not prepared with a counterattack or at least something to soften the blow. "I'm Emrys." He didn't even bother to hide the cracking of his voice nor the tears that now made their way down his cheeks.

Her heart shuddered violently, her grip loosening immediately. She knew Merlin, she knew him better than most but worst of all; she knew that he wasn't lying. All the strength seemed to fall away from her as her knees buckled and she fell back onto the floor, her hands only just holding her up.

"I swear to you, Morgana, everything I have done, I've done for you and Arthur," he said, his tongue fumbling over the words. "For the good of Camelot and of Albion. I would never-...I would never hurt Arthur." He knew that he could not say that he wouldn't hurt Morgana. For he had and she knew it. Well, part of it.

But Arthur was his friend, his master, his destiny. He would let no harm come to him, not ever.

"You must believe me," he implored, starting to pull himself up.

"Guards," Morgana whispered, a blank look on her face as she avoided his gaze.

"Morgana-..."

"Guards!" she screamed, hand thumping down on the floor as the sound seemed to source from her very soul.

The guards quickly ran in and grabbed Merlin by his arms, frowning down at Morgana for her next instructions. Keeping her eyes to the floor, she hissed, "Take Emrys to the dungeons."

"Morgana, please!" Merlin shouted as he began to struggle but to no avail. The guards were strong and he was still stunned from Morgana's attack. His knees buckled; she knew. Gods, she knew about his magic. Not only that, she knew he was Emrys.

And that meant-...That meant that Arthur would soon know, too.

As if hearing his thoughts, he saw the familiar strong frame headed towards them, his brow curled in a frown. "What is the meaning of this?" he snapped, his eyes looking to Merlin's for answers.

"Si-..." Merlin started but he was cut off as the guard's gloved hand collided with his cheek.

"Don't speak, Emrys."

The name sent a dagger to Arthur's heart. "E-Emrys, wh-what?" he stuttered but then another wave of dread crossed over him. He saw the defeat and acceptance in Merlin's eyes. This wasn't a lie; he was Emrys. Everything else seemed irrelevant, an unknown emotion coursing through the prince's veins as his jaw locked. He didn't know whether he wanted to cry or to pull his sword from its sheath and bury it into Merlin's chest. How could he? How dare he? "Take him away," he said, his voice choked.

"No..." Merlin started as the guards once again began to drag him away. "Arthur, please!" he screamed but it fell on deaf ears.

Arthur's attention was now taken up solely on the only person he had left that he truly trusted. "Morgana..." he whispered, her name falling from his lips effortlessly as he broke into a run towards their chambers. He skidded to a stop when he reached them, his hand resting on the doorframe as he found a sight that broke his heart. Morgana was on the floor, tears falling silently from her eyes onto the stone floor as her hand held her up, legs curled to her side. He, too, remained silent for no words could or would ever amount to the pain she was feeling. He lowered himself down to her side and wrapped his strong arms around her, keeping her safe like a tower, encasing her shaking form entirely. She barely seemed to register he was there until she turned to curl into his chest, hands gripping his tunic as finally, she sobbed. Neither of them knew how long they stayed there but neither cared. Silently, they declared to each other that they would only ever trust the other.

The two of them; the champion and his lady.

That was all that mattered.