Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters or dialogue. They belong to the BBC.

The Truth of False Accusations

This is a story set at the end of "The Tears of Uther Pendragon", and requires some knowledge of said episode to understand the opening.

Summary: At the end of "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" Morgana accuses Merlin of planting the staff to wake the skeletal army. Merlin has to find a way to get back to Arthur and make him accept Merlin's magic, and in the mean time Arthur must fight off the terrors of series 3 without Merlin's help.

Just to be clear, when the events of the series first come into the story they will be very similar to the original events, but in a ripple effect, the changes will multiply and soon some of it will be mostly original, and most of it will be completely original.


We were winning. We were. All right, we had a chance of winning. We were pretty badly hurt, but we could do it. The lower town was lost, but we were not about to lose the citadel. But then everything changed. I could feel the ancient magic awaken in Camelot, and then we weren't just fighting the soldiers. They came from inside. Skeletons that walked and fought against us with more endurance than any mortal man could have hoped to obtain. I had to do something, but I don't know what Morgana and Morgause will do next.

After the defeat of Cenrid's army, Arthur and his knights swiftly congregated in the throne room where Uther was ready to greet them with a small group of lords and ladies gathered at the edges of the room.

'Sire,' said Merlin, running to catch up with the prince.

'What is it?' asked Arthur.

'I need to tell you something,' said Merlin, 'about Morgana'.

'It's alright, we know what happened', said Arthur.

'You do?' asked Merlin as Arthur increased his stride, walking up to stand beside the king.

'In my time, we've won many battles,' said Uther, 'but none so important as this. Every man, every woman and child has performed their heroic best, and I thank you, and I salute you all.

'Even before the battle, we knew there was a traitor in our midst, one who was almost the undoing of us. However we have to thank the one person who out-witted them, and who almost single handedly turned the battle; the Lady Morgana.'

Applause broke out around the room as Morgana crossed the floor to join him.

'For it was she who bravely entered the vault, found the magical vessel and destroyed it. We must be vigilant. We must stand firm against the dark forces of magic, and ensure that they never penetrate our walls again.

'And we begin this process with the execution of the sorcerer that nearly brought our downfall. The Lady Morgana sighted him as he fled the vault. If you will, please tell us the identity of this sorcerer.'

Morgana raised a finger to point. 'It was him,' she said, 'Merlin.'

'Seize him', said Uther.

Merlin opened his mouth to protest as two guards appeared on either side of him, restraining his arms; but Uther cut him off.

'How long have you lurked here, in my own court plotting my downfall?' he turned to face the guards. 'Get him out of my sight.' Addressing the whole room once more, he said: 'he will be executed tomorrow, with the other prisoner', then he turned and strode from the room.


Merlin? How could Merlin have been a sorcerer? That bumbling idiot couldn't remember to muck out the horses, let alone an entire set of incantations, but why would Morgana lie about something like that? None of it makes any sense? What do I do? No, what can I do? Now that Merlin is a condemned sorcerer, my father will not allow him to live. And that is the way it should be. Magic is evil, the recent battle proved that. I couldn't have fought those skeletons like that and come to any other conclusion. Merlin is magic, so Merlin must be evil. Even though I say that, Merlin is my friend. This makes no sense.


'What happened in the vault, sister?' asked Morgause. 'What was it that cost us our victory?'

The two stood shrouded in the darkness of the forest, each wrapped by a hooded cloak.

'A servant boy, Merlin, discovered me in the vault; he shattered the staff', said Morgana.

'All of our plans were undone, by a serving boy?' screeched Morgause, unable to contain her temper.

'Fear not, sister,' said Morgana coolly, 'he will not thwart our plans again.'

'How can you be so sure?' asked Morgause.

'He has been sentenced to death, for the crime of sorcery,' stated Morgana.

'Sorcery?' questioned Morgause

'I named him as the sorcerer who planted the staff in the vault', said Morgana

Morgause considered for a moment.

'You have done well, sister,' said Morgause, 'such an act will rid us of a nuisance, and at the same time put Uther at ease that he has caught the traitor and that you are truly his doting ward.' She frowned. 'In the upcoming days, more than ever, you must appear to be what Uther thinks you are.'

'Of course, sister', said Morgana.

Morgause smiled. 'Perhaps we can turn this in our favour.'


Arthur lay in an unmade bed, made uncomfortable by the bunching bed-sheets and the events of that afternoon. No matter how he looked at it, Merlin would die in the morning with the other sorcerer they had captured earlier that week, and then he would be gone.

But was there really anything to be "gone"? If Merlin was a sorcerer, was any of what had happened before anything more than part of a ploy to gain his and the kings confidence? No, not that jokey disregard for status and that stupid grin. Those couldn't have been an act, could they? But why would Morgana have lied like that? It made no sense.

Unless, yes, that was it, Morgana had mistaken the sorcerer for Merlin in the darkness of the vault. That must be it. Yes, it must be.


To call the passageway leading to the dungeons "squalid" was to leave no word to describe the dungeons themselves. Merlin practically choked on the grime as he was thrown face first into an already occupied cell. Its other occupant gazed down at him as he picked himself up from the floor.

The door grated shut behind him and he heard the lock click as the key was turned.

Trying to rid his mouth of any foreign elements, he dragged himself up onto one of the cell's two benches. Once his mouth was acceptably clean, he turned to his fellow prisoner.

The prisoner was a middle-aged man with greasy hair and rings under his eyes (although this was most likely the effect of his stay in the dungeons). Under the accumulated dirt, his skin was deathly pale and his eyes were a piercing grey.

'So,' said Merlin, 'what'd they get you for?'

'Sorcery', muttered the man. 'I'm being burned for it in the morning.'

Merlin gave him a sympathetic look.

'Same here. My name's Merlin, what's yours?' He extended a hand for the man to shake. The handshake crackled, as the grit on the man's hand rubbed against his palm.

Merlin shuddered.

'Arnold,' said the man, 'and don't think I'll be telling you more than that.'

Suddenly there were great, thumping footsteps a little way off, soon followed by the sounds of an increasingly loud conversation between the newcomer and the guards.

'What the blazes is that?' exclaimed Arnold. 'It sounds like some sort of mythical monster.'

'Really?' asked Merlin, 'because to me it sounds exactly like a prat.'