Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of the characters.

Story: With Halloween drawing ever closer I thought I'd do a themed Merlin fic. One story for each of the main four, enjoy! Varies in spookiness/scariness. Rated M to be safe for sexual content and horror elements.

Guinevere

She was collected some water from the well when it happened. Alone. It was getting late, and dark, and normally she had the good sense not to go out, but she had told herself she wouldn't be long.

It wasn't deathly cold, but fog hung in small clouds around her feet, and feeling the chill, she pulled her purple shawl tighter around herself. She moved briskly, purposefully, avoiding the eyes of any lone man she passed, until finally she reached the stone well.

Trying to ignore the strange sensation of fear that she would grabbed at any moment from behind, she placed the bucket onto the stone, and attaching it to the pulley, began lowering it down. She was just pulling it back up, nearly there, when a twig snapped nearby, and she jumped.

Spinning around, she did a quick panorama of the surroundings. Silence. Nothing.

Turning back, her heart jittering uncomfortably, she began to shakily dis-attach the bucket from the pulley, when it happened.

Something grabbed at her wrist tightly. When she saw that it was a dirtied hand; almost claw like nails, she screamed.

Village members came running as she staggered back in fright, the bucket of water dropped to spill out over the cobblestoned ground. A man she recognised as the husband as one of the villagers was asking her if she was alright, but she could barely hear him as she gazed at her wrist where the hand had been only moments before…

Morgana

Morgana couldn't wait for the annual banquet. A smile played excitedly across her lips as she affixed jewelled decorations in her hair. Gwen would have been doing it normally, and Morgana would have had someone to chatter to about how she couldn't wait to flirt with all the knights, but she was ill with a terrible cold and Morgana had insisted she take a few days off to recover for her own good.

Her hand, halfway to placing the next green gem, froze in confusion as she caught a glimpse of something red and glinting in the reflection of her mirror. She blinked, and it was gone. She had to be more tired than she had thought…

Morgana grinned to herself as she applied red stain to her lips. Hopefully Sir Leon would be so struck with her appearance he wouldn't be able to resist asking to court her. No matter how hard she had tried he hadn't seemed to notice her attentions, possibly because she was normally quite flirtatious with everyone but…

Morgana frowned as she caught sight of the red glint again. It wasn't her imagination – something was there! Standing up, she turned to the bedside table it had been on in the reflection and made her way over.

Lying in the middle of the table was a gilded, bejewelled red mirror. Morgana picked it up, fascinated. How had it got there? Gwen must have left it…but no, she couldn't have done, she hadn't been in Morgana's room for a few days due to her illness, and Morgana had never noticed it until now. Had someone snuck into her room and left it as a gift? But then, why no note to accompany it?

Morgana turned it back over to check her appearance. It was quite beautiful; perhaps it would make a good birthday gift for Gwen? Her expression froze as the mirror became cloudy, and she examined it more closely…was it broken?

An image was forming…Morgana could see herself again, but her pupils were red! In shock she frowned, peering closer, only for red to cover the whole mirror…a substance was seeping out of the frame, red…blood. In horror, Morgana dropped the mirror, and it shattered.

She stood, frozen, staring at the bloody shards, until a voice sent cold ice water down her spine.

"For the breaking of this looking glass, only seven more hours will you pass. And then your soul will be dragged down to the fiery depths…"

The ghostly voice faded with a quiet shriek, and Morgana felt her legs give way and had to grab onto her chair. Heart hammering, she glanced back up at her reflection, and was relieved to find her eyes a normal colour, the only change in her appearance now was that her normally pale skin was now almost translucent with fear.

A sudden rap at her door made her gasp. "C-Come in," she whispered, and had to repeat herself in an audible tone.

"My lady? I was wondering if I might escort you to the banquet." Sir Leon. His kind face was an infinite comfort. She took a shaky breath, nodded, and rose carefully to her feet, producing a smile.

"That would be lovely."

"You look beautiful, my lady," he smiled as she took his arm. "Only, what's that?"

"Hmm?"

"On your hand."

Morgana raised her hand to her face, to see a strange script in black. The words "Your soul is mine" were marked there.

"Oh, my lady!" Sir Leon stumbled forth to catch Morgana as her eyes closed and she fell in a dreadful faint into his arms.

The abandoned mirror in her room hissed with smoke and delight.

Arthur

As Arthur slept that dark night, little did he know that two succubus sisters had just landed in the gates of Camelot.

"Why did you make us come all this way, sister? Arthur Pendragon may be a prince, but that does not mean he will be handsome…"

"Ah, but he is sister, I have heard tales of his beauty from other kingdoms, it is infamous. And he is pure, and you do know that the virgins give off the sweetest energy." The demon bit her lip in anticipation. "Enough talk. If you do not want to wait for me, why don't you seek out one of the knights. There are plenty, my sister."

The other demon smirked, revealing sharp incisors. "A wise choice then, sister. I will meet you back here at the stroke of twelve. Do not be late, once it is discovered that the prince of Camelot is dead, alarm bells will ring."

The woman nodded, and pushed off from the ground with a flap of powerful scaled wings to seek the young Pendragon's chamber. She glided in smoothly through his open window, and a predator's smile danced across her lips to see him lost in innocent sleep. Not for long.

She muttered a quick enchantment to take the form of a beautiful human woman clad in the skimpiest, tightest red silken nightdress, and slinked over to the bed, climbing on top and waking him with her call. He stirred, before eyes opened blearily, and she immediately leaned forward to plant her magical kiss on his lips, to enchant him.

"Your poor, frustrated creature," she murmured, as the bewitched Arthur attacked her neck with yearning kisses. She helped his shirt off, and then his britches, before pulling her own dress over her head to expose beautiful, curvaceous flesh, a contented leer appearing as Arthur lustily cupped her breasts with his hands.

The sex was necessary for the energy, but it was fun.

Arthur clearly wanted to take command, but she did not allow him, pushing him back onto the bed as she rode him forcefully. She delighted in his cries of orgasm, as she too approached breaking point, but once it had finished, the enchantment was broken. Arthur's eyes cleared and he stared at the woman in complete horror and confusion.

"Ssh, don't speak my love," she urged him, placing a sharp nail to his lips before leaning forward and pressing her lips to his, sucking out his energy bit by bit until he was completely drained. Extracting herself from his lifeless body, she lowered the illusion to return to her natural form.

"I'll see you in Hell, Prince Arthur," she grinned, and laughing, made her way down the corridor.

Merlin

Despite possessing magic, Merlin was a practical man. He refused to acknowledge the existence of ghosts and ghouls in particular, no matter how many tales he heard.

So you can imagine his confusion when he dreamt of a cemetery so real, so vivid to the touch of every uneven stone statue and gravestone that he had to question if he was actually dreaming at all.

He surveyed his surroundings, and found the place to be an oddity, the strange contrast of the lifeless – not only the dead beneath his feet, but also the motionless figures, like people trapped in rock, a silent scream, and the alive, crows cawing balefully, and moss creeping up to grab any stone it could possess.

A tall, sturdy figure caught his eye and he stepped forth, smiles of relief taking over. "Arthur. What are you doing here?"

Arthur remained seemingly motionless and Merlin pouted, stepping closer. "Don't ignore me, you're going to need my help getting out of here you know."

As he rounded to meet Arthur's front, his mouth fell open to see tears rolling steadily down the prince's cheeks, and took Arthur's arm softly. "Arthur? What's wrong?"

"It's Guinevere," Arthur said in a hushed voice. "I think she's been taken…by some men."

"What?" Merlin stepped back. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go get her!"

"I think they were sorcerers." Arthur bit his lip, something Merlin had never seen the man do before.

"If we sneak up on them, I'm sure we can rescue her! I could act as a distraction again," Merlin thought out loud. "Which way did you see her go?"

Arthur was silent a moment, then finally raised his head to point ahead.

They walked together in silence, feet crunching over the frost covered leaves, and Merlin was so preoccupied with the strangeness of the place, that he didn't notice Arthur's unusual silence until they stopped, and then he attributed it to worry for Gwen.

"What is it? Why have you stopped?"

Arthur gestured to steps leading down into an open crypt before them, his voice sombre. "I think they took her down here."

Merlin opened his mouth to question how Arthur could be so sure, but Arthur had already begun to walk steadily down the steps; each movement echoing into the hollow walls.

They had been walking down a long corridor in the near darkness, and Merlin was finally about to open his mouth and say "I really don't think this is it, Arthur," when they came into a hollow round room.

"We're here," Arthur said.

"Arthur, there's nobody here," Merlin sighed. "Let's go, we're wasting time."

At this point, Arthur turned, and wordlessly fixed Merlin with a strange stare that unnerved him completely. He felt like he was being looked through.

Unexpectedly the shadows altered, and people began to step forth. Gwen was nowhere to be seen and Merlin stepped forth, his shackles rising.

"Where's Gwen? What have you done with her?" he shouted.

"Merlin, get back," Arthur warned, drawing his sword.

A man, skin paler than the moonlight, and eyes a dark ruby red, leered in a way that set Merlin's every neck hair on edge. They had to get out of here. Instinctively he grabbed Arthur's shirt, trying to pull him back. "Let's get out of here, Arthur, we're outnumbered."

He heard Arthur slowly re-sheathing his sword. The blonde man turned to Merlin.

"You're not going anywhere, Merlin," he said slowly, then smiled, baring long, pointed, white fangs.

Merlin stumbled backwards, moving through the air so fast he thought for a minute he was falling. His head jerked in the direction of something whooshing towards him and suddenly he was being grabbed from all angles, restrained on the floor by snarling beasts of humans.

"Hold him steady," Arthur commanded coolly. "I want first feed."

"Arthur?" Merlin cried. "I don't understand…what's happened to you?"

And then his world went black with pain as Arthur growled the sound rippling through his entire sturdy frame. He lunged for the jugular.