Title: On Malisons and Mercy
Timeframe/Info About This Fic: This is my alternate story for Se2E12 or The Fires of Idirsholas; Merlin has yet to consult with the Great Dragon as to how to "remedy" the problem
Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin... Let's just be rational for a second
Authors Note: Hooray... 20th story! Rah! Rah! Rah!
Anyway, I completely understand if you guys never want to read another thing from me ever again after this story. I was just hit by the inspiration bug...and I couldn't stop thinking about this big "what if." Inspired by the actual scene when Morgana fell while being chased and was all "Meeeerlin! Heeeeeelp meeee!" with this sort of expression: D:
Err... please enjoy...?
Morgana knew.
She was also fairly certain that Merlin knew as well. He didn't understand everything, she assumed, but he knew enough to know that Morgana's magic was keeping her from falling prey to the sleeping sickness. It was obvious he was on her side as well, seeing that he defended her against Arthur's prying questions and suspicious glares.
Arthur was, as always, pathetically oblivious to everything around him. But then again, that was the way her dear foster brother was—completely missing the obvious until it was almost too late.
The witch glanced over at her stressed foster brother. He was scuffling around the king, fussing and fretting the way a mother might over a sick child. Every so often, Morgana could hear a colorful word under his breath. Apart from the breathed curses, the room was completely silent. Morgana was staring blankly at the occupants of the room, wondering what her sister possibly had planned, when Arthur straightened up with a loud groan. Pulled from her reverie, Morgana flinched slightly. Her light eyes focused on the prince, waiting to hear what he was about to say.
"Where's Merlin? He should be back by now. We need those clothes to conceal my father." Arthur suppressed a yawn, trying to waking himself up by stretching his arms by swinging them back and forward with a quick, jerking movement. The future king suddenly made a decision. "I'm going to go look for him," he announced, heading for the door.
"Wait! Arthur, I ha—"
Just then, Merlin all but stumbled into the room, slightly panting. "Ar'hur…" he gasped, taking deep breaths.
"Spit it out, Merlin," the future king prodded, feeling quite annoyed from the combination of their predicament and the sudden fatigue he was suffering from. He was also a bit peeved from the fact that Merlin did not have any of the servant clothing he was supposed to get. "Where are the clothes to disguise my father?"
"Morgause is here," he managed to blurt out.
The prince instantly stiffened. "She must've been the other rider." He glanced behind him at the unconscious king, who was resting comfortably on the floor with two pillows. "We have to move my father—she'll recognize him. Maybe we can get him out before they enter the castle..."
Merlin bit his lip, waiting to reveal the second part of his report. Morgana noticed the boy's hesitation and frowned. "What is it, Merlin?"
"They're already in the castle, Arthur. That's why I couldn't get any clothing—I went to Gaius's, but the Knights and Morgause were already there. They were just entering when one of them saw me. I was able to," he paused, searching for the right way to explain his magic without being blatantly obvious about it, "get away, but I think I was followed. Sorry, Arthur."
Arthur kicked savagely at the floor. "Sorry isn't going to fix this, Merlin! You've probably led them here to the king."
Merlin started to come back with either a sarcastic retort or another stammered apology, when Morgana interrupted. "Don't yell at Merlin. He didn't mean to possibly lead them here, Arthur. We're lucky that he came back to warn us." The warlock gave a thankful smile to the witch. That makes us even, he thought.
Arthur fought away his dropping eyelids to glare at the girl. "Whose side are you on, Morgana? If Morgana and her cursed knights come here, then Camelot will soon be without a king!"
"Maybe that's be—"
Merlin, who had been guilty standing by the door to keep watch, jumped back suddenly. His wide eyes and his sudden paleness was enough to inform the other two what he had seen. "They're coming!" he hissed, backing up from the door.
Arthur slowly drew his sword, ignoring the ache within his limbs to lie down and rest. The plucky prince was going to fight an immortal army on his own.
Merlin scowled from his spot pressed against the corner made between the wall and the heavy wooden wardrobe. Morgana, who was crouched by the bed, hissed for the prince to hide.
"I'm not going to let them kill the king," Arthur replied. His answer would have sounded much more intimidating if it hadn't been broken in the middle by an enormous yawn.
Deciding what was best for the future of Albion, Merlin impertinently yanked the future king into his hiding spot, which forced the young magician back out into the open. "At least stay here so you can have the advantage of surprise," the warlock whispered in rushed tones.
Finally starting to grasp the danger, Arthur frowned. "Where are you going to hide then?"
The younger boy's eyes darted quickly around the room. He had only seconds to come up with a suitable place to hide. Of course! "In the wardrobe."
If the sounds of heavy footsteps and clanging metal hadn't been heard, Arthur was very likely going to make a snide comment about the manservant choosing the "safest" hiding spot. Instead, he watched as the boy all but threw himself into the ancient piece of furniture. The door to the heavy piece of furniture latched close—typical Merlin…he locked himself in there by accident—the exact same moment that the swish of a blond curl was visible. Arthur slowly let out a breath that he hadn't even known he was hiding. Morgana, on the opposite side of the room, was surprisingly more relaxed. She and her foster brother watched the door with anxious eyes as Morgause and her "men" entered.
Already celebrating her victory, the blond witch sort of strutted into the room. Laying eyes on the unconscious king, her smile grew substantially. "So that foolish boy did lead us to the king."
If a particularly powerful wave of fatigue hadn't washed through the boy's spirit, it was very likely that the prince would have launched himself at the sorceress then and there. He opened his mouth to give a soundless gasp as he sagged against the heavy wardrobe, burning eyes screaming to drift shut. He wondered if the occupant of the wardrobe was just as tired as he was.
Suddenly, Morgause's taunting laugh filled the room, waking Arthur up as efficiently as when Merlin made his bath too cold. His hairs stood on end, and even Morgana was starting to look worried. Why she wasn't concerned before made Arthur suspicious, but he had more important things to worry about. Such as why Morgause was laughing.
"Are you going to reveal yourselves? Or do I have to find you myself?" Arthur tensed, soundlessly raising his blade. From her spot, Morgana shook her head quickly and forcefully, her dark curls flying spastically. Don't, she mouthed to him.
Arthur didn't have to time mouth anything back, because at that moment, one of the Knights of Medhir plunged his sword into the left hand corner of the wardrobe. The century old wood squealed as it was sliced through, but no cry of pain was heard. Arthur froze, horrible images running through his mind, as Morgana paled to the hue of snow.
Morgause pulled her stare from the prone body of Uther and refocused it on the holey wardrobe. Without even stating the obvious, she reached for the door. When the lock clicked, but refused to open, she frowned slightly. However, this was all remedied with a whispered word and a wave of the hand. In a flash of gold, the clearly audible sound of the lock sliding back echoed through the silent room. Morgause yanked the ancient door handle, almost pulling the door off its hinges with the sheer force acted upon it. Arthur couldn't see what was going on, but based off of the slightly relieved expression on Morgana's face, he could assume Merlin was relatively okay.
I don't see what she's so relieved about—we're all going to die anyway, the prince thought pessimistically.
"Hello," Morgause smirked at the manservant, who was pressed tightly against the right corner of the wardrobe. He stared at the sorceress with wide eyes, a shred of his sleeve nailed to the back of the cabinet. Even though the knight had already withdrawn his sword from the wood, the impact of the blade had pinned the cloth to the wall so forcefully, it did not need anything to hold it up.
The witch whispered another word, and suddenly the boy was forcefully expelled from the wardrobe. He landed roughly on the stone floor, his exhaustion keeping him down longer than usual. Morgause pointed stiffly to the slumped figure. As a result, two knights instantly lowered their swords and roughly grabbed either of the boy's shoulders, hauling him roughly to his feet. The warlock was struggling to stay awake, eyes drifting close, and then snapping open with quick jerks of his head.
"Where are the others?"
The boy gave a sloppy shrug, which looked more like a twitch, since he was restrained so tightly.
Morgause smiled, expecting nothing less from the meddlesome manservant. "Very well. If that is how it must be…" Instead of killing the boy the magical way, she decided to do it the old fashion way with a sword. Lifting the glinting blade to the boy's chest, she drew back her arm to stab him.
Surprisingly Arthur was not the first one to react. "Stop!" Morgana shouted, jumping up from her hiding spot, and "accidentally" stepping on the king in her mad dash to her sister, the knights, and the captured manservant.
"Morgana!" Arthur decided he might as well make an appearance as well since their cover was already blown. He reached out to grab her and pull her back, but she yanked her upper arm free of the prince's grasp, focusing solely on Morgause and her potential victim.
. Morgause pointed stiffly at the revealed prince, and two of the knights surrounded him as well. His deep fatigue kept Arthur from fighting too roughly against his assailants. Instead, he sagged weakly as he was forced to his knees beside the drooping manservant. No mythical knight came to subdue the dark-haired enchantress. The blond witch tilted her head as she analyzed her sister
"Sister?" Morgause frowned. "Do you doubt your resolve?"
It took a few moments for the thought to settle in Arthur's sluggish mind. Sister…? Beside him, Merlin was looking similarly confused and equally lethargic.
"Spare them," Morgana pleaded, glancing from Arthur to Merlin.
One of Morgause's blond eyebrows darted up. "What?"
"Spare them," she repeated.
Morgause scrutinized her two slumped prisoners, wondering if there was something about them that she had missed before. "Have you a reason, sister, for wanting to save their lives?"
Not even looking in the direction of the kneeling boys, Morgana stared at the floor with a great deal of interest. "Arthur is like a brother to me. I have grown up with him."
"You've also grown up with Uther. Do you feel the same need to spare the king?" Morgause countered.
An icy glint flitted through Morgana's eyes. "No. Uther is a monster." Arthur fought weakly against his binds, torn between confusion and fury. "I have no love for the king."
"And the manservant? Surely you have no familiar ties to him."
Morgana finally looked up at the pale boy. Although his expression was struggling to remain sharp, his eyes watched the dark-haired girl intently. "Merlin is kind," the girl said simply, thinking of how the boy had risked Arthur's and Uther's wrath in defending her secret magic. Now we are even.
"Arthur is the prince," Morgause stated the obvious. She was still trying to piece together why her sister wanted to save the most dangerous of threats and the most bumbling of servants. "He will be a threat as long as he is still alive. Would it not be better to kill them now?" The other girl shook her head once. Morgause suddenly was hit with an idea. "Is it that you do not wish them to feel pain when they die? We can wait for the curse to completely consume them, and then strike." She watched her sister's face carefully. "They will feel nothing, I promise," she half whispered.
"I do not want them killed at all," Morgana replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I don't need them to be conscious in order to keep my consciences clean," she started in a relatively firm voice. "Let the curse drive them to sleep, and never bring them out of the enchanted slumber. They will no longer be threats to us." Sometime during this speech, Morgana's forced tentativeness had disappeared, and was replaced by a cold determination.
Morgause nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, sister. That can be arranged."
Arthur's head was sluggishly spinning the entire time. Curse? Morgana's evil? So tired… Why? Can't fall asleep… The boy was fighting a losing battle in trying to keep himself awake. He gathered up as much energy as he could spare to turn his head to look at Merlin. No longer was the warlock able to keep himself up, instead lolling against the firm hands and arms of his capturers. The thin boy's eyes were halfway closed, one blue iris barely visible as it stared tiredly at the two witches before him. Unlike the prince, he was unable to summon any excess energy, his small frame losing strength much quicker than Arthur's bulkier body was.
Morgana smiled wanly at the two boys. "Perhaps you may thank me later…?"
Arthur's glare told the witch that he most certainly would not, but he was unable to verbalize this thought. Sensing that the "touching moment" between his sister and the two captives was over, Morgause placed either hand on the center of the boys' foreheads. Murmuring dark words, ice sped through her palms and flooded the boys' spirits and bodies. The moment she lifted her hands from their temples, both boys were tumbling quickly down the slope of eternal oblivion. Morgause snapped, commanding her immortal army to release the two prisoners immediately. They both collapsed instantly. Arthur hit the ground with a slight gasp, as Merlin sort of slumped down with a sigh that could almost be described as relieved. Arthur was surprisingly the first to succumb completely. However, Merlin did not last much longer. He strained with all of the diminishing energy he had left in his body to peek up at Morgana; his blue eyes looking quite sad indeed as the color and spark faded from them. He then allowed his burning lids to flutter close, sinking into a deep sleep beside his master and friend.
"I still do not understand your reasoning in sparing their lives, sister," Morgause said, breaking the silence.
Morgana pulled her gaze from the sleeping boys. "They were kind," she repeated simply. "And I think they'd do the same for me—they'd show mercy."
The blonde witch didn't say anything, merely nodding at her sister. They'd sooner poison you, sister, to save themselves.
Seriously, guys. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I've yet to right a story that could be considered happy. Challenge accepted...? Naaaah.
Thanks for reading! :D Even though it'd be cool to have a sequel, I'm not sure if this will have one.