"Merlin, you look awful."

Arthur had never been known for his tact, particularly not towards those he considered friends. Merlin had often joked that he had small reserves of courtesy and exhausted them on a frequent basis, but he was much too tired to make any such quip this morning.

"I've not been sleeping well," he explained simply, continuing to lay out the breakfast things.

In fact, getting to sleep hadn't been a problem at all - it was almost as if he was being dragged there - but getting any meaningful respite out of it was a different matter. His mind simply got no rest, Morgause's presence disturbing him deeply. At first, she was just there - doing nothing and saying little - like her spirit was haunting him out of malice. He'd thought maybe that was her punishment for what he'd done to her. They'd never really known what had happened to the High Priestess, but Morgana had certainly laid blame on him for her death.

Then he realised, after several nights, that Morgause was in fact talking to him. If he focused on her instead of trying to ignore her, he could see her mouth was moving, and he'd started to hear faint sounds. It was a breeze-like whisper of words but too garbled to make out, just as if she was speaking to him from underwater. Caution told him that he didn't want to know what she was saying, but something else - a sixth sense? Foolishness? - made him fight to understand. Strangely enough, he almost looked forward to sleep since it gave him the opportunity to know rather than spend his days puzzling.

He hadn't liked what he'd heard.

"Bad dreams?" Arthur cooed in a rather jovial manner as he sat, clearly meaning it as a joke and not seeing any unease in Merlin.

Merlin schooled himself not to react. He didn't think Arthur would take kindly to the idea that Merlin was dreaming about Morgana's dead sister. Too many raw memories there, particularly since Arthur had convinced himself that Morgause was to blame for all this; that she'd turned Morgana against them. Brain-washed her. Merlin had his own opinion on that but had said nothing.

"Yeah," he joked back, as bright as he could force. "It comes from doing your laundry. Horrific experience."

"Many would consider it an honour to be trusted with a king's laundry, you know."

"Tell that to my nose."

Gwen entered, thankfully saving Merlin from further verbal sparring that he wasn't up to. She smiled warmly at them both, brightening the atmosphere in the room. She certainly put a softer expression onto Arthur's face as she kissed his cheek.

Her happy face fell to a light frown though as she turned her attention to Merlin.

"You look awful," she commented with more open concern than her husband had managed.

"Not sleeping well," Merlin explained again, keeping the explanation vague and uninteresting, hoping Gwen wouldn't feel the need to delve further into it.

She was always smarter than that.

"Is something wrong?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't think so. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

Even Arthur frowned now.

"Then go and see Gaius," he insisted. "We'll be fine here."

Merlin smiled a little to himself, thinking he must look terrible if even Arthur could drop his jovial ribbing and pretence of not caring.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," he deflected with a playfully pained expression. "I've seen you try to cut bread before…"

"Merlin…" Arthur's warning tone.

The young sorcerer arched an eyebrow.

"You tried to do it with your sword."

Gwen laughed.

"It was very tough!" Arthur protested before pushing that aside. "Now, go. That's an order."

Which didn't leave Merlin much choice, admittedly. He'd been putting off talking to Gaius, not wanting to worry his old friend and needing time to think things through for himself. Perhaps though it was time to confide. Particularly now he'd come to a decision about what to do.

"I didn't know you cared," he snorted at Arthur, gathering up the washing to take away. It would save him coming back later at least.

Arthur smirked at him.

"Don't be stupid, Merlin. I just don't want you spreading your disease around. Who knows where you've been."

Gaius was busy at his work bench, but glanced up as Merlin entered. Immediately, he frowned, pausing in what he was doing.

"You look awful, Merlin."

"I wish people would stop saying that. It's doing nothing for my confidence."

Gaius retorted with a dry look which spoke of no patience for jokes; he wanted to know what was wrong and he certainly wouldn't be fobbed off with words of distraction. He knew Merlin far too well.

Merlin sighed, still slightly reluctant to confess, but knowing he could do with someone else's opinion, even if his own was usually the one he listened to in the end.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

Gaius cocked his head, intrigued. "Bad dreams?"

"Of a sort."

Gaius listened as attentively as he ever did whilst Merlin explained what he'd seen, how his dreams were being haunted by the spirit of the dead sorceress and had been for nearly two weeks, ever since they'd got back from fighting the amphisbaena.

"At first it was just her presence. I thought she was just angry at me and wanted to make my nights miserable but…it's changed."

"How so?" Gaius's expression was serious but thoughtful, wanting all the facts before he made his views on it known.

"There's more there now. Scenes. Visions, maybe."

"Of what?"

Merlin hesitated, an uneasy shiver going through him at the memory. "Blood. War. Death."

"Arthur's death?" Gaius asked, clearly sensing something in the young sorcerer's voice.

"I don't know. Maybe." He'd not seen it - not yet anyway - but he knew that something terrible had happened in that battle. The sky was as red as fire and blood, the ground muddied and destroyed, the world deathly silent. It felt like everything had been torn down and ruined. "I'm no Seer, Gaius; these aren't my visions. She might just be showing me horrible things to torment me or there might something to them."

Gaius nodded in understanding, seeing his plight and knowing why he was so disturbed. "You're right. Unfortunately, there's no true way of telling."

"Yes, there is."

Gaius arched an eyebrow at him.

Merlin looked at him steadily, defiant almost, knowing he wouldn't like this in the slightest but prepared to stand his ground. "Last night, before I woke, she told me to go to the Isle of the Blessed and she'd explain."

There was silence for a moment, Gaius returning his steady look as though he believed he could make the young man dismiss that notion with a gaze of wisdom.

"Merlin-"

He could hear the warning in Gaius's voice, and whilst he appreciated the sense in it - of everything he knew Gaius would say in counter to the idea - Gaius wasn't the one having to live with these dreams night after night. Merlin had one pertinent question in his mind; if he ignored it, then what? Would the nightmares carry on regardless until he found some way of blocking them? Or, even worse, would he be ignoring a vital warning and destined to watch that battle come to pass, walking through those bloodied fields and coming upon the sight he feared most?

"I can't just brush them aside," he insisted, apology in his tone for ignoring what on the face of it would be sound advice. "If something does happen and I ignore this summons…"

He'd never forgive himself.

"You don't even know if it is Morgause," Gaius reasoned calmly, years of experience teaching him that reason rather than orders would be more likely to get through to Merlin. "And even if it is, how can you trust her? Why would she warn you of anything? She'll bear you nothing but ill will, Merlin. I can't believe it would be anything but a trap."

Merlin agreed, particularly if Morgana truly was dead. Morgause's capacity for vengeance would then know no bounds.

"Maybe it is, but I can deal with her," he insisted. "I have before and it's not like she knows who or what I am. If she does try something, she'll get a nasty surprise."

"Well, whilst I appreciate your confidence," Gaius said dryly, "she's a spirit. I'm not sure there's much you can threaten her with."

"Exactly," Merlin replied quickly, pouncing on those words and turning them to his favour. "She's a spirit; how much harm can she do me?"

"On the Isle of the Blessed?" Gaius said in a sceptical tone. "The seat of power for the Old Religion? Home of the High Priestesses? Oh nothing, I'm sure."

Merlin gave him a look, unimpressed. He knew he was taking a risk but it was one he considered worth it.

"I'm going," he said firmly. "I don't have a choice."

Gaius sighed, obviously knowing he couldn't stop him, and resigned to live with Merlin's stubbornness. He wasn't a boy anymore; Gaius could give his opinion but he couldn't expect Merlin to always heed it. Didn't mean he'd be shy about making it known though.

"And what about Arthur? Will you tell him?"

"No," Merlin said with a steady shake of his head. "It would be too difficult to explain without…"

Giving himself away.

Gaius nodded very slightly in agreement. "So what do I tell him then? When he asks where you are?"

"That I have some terrible disease and can't be seen?" Merlin suggested with a smile. "I'm sure you'll think of something and I'll only be gone a few days."

"Hopefully," Gaius said grimly. "And I'm assuming you don't need to be told to be extremely careful. But if you do come back without your head, don't complain to me."

"If I do, you can say 'I told you so'," he promised.

The Isle of the Blessed held nothing but bad memories for Merlin. The barren grey ruins were clearly a place of magic - he could feel it in the air, sense it in the ground and perceive it emanating from the very stones of the crumbled keep - and he should, by all rights, feel at home here. But something told him that the Isle didn't want him here any more than he wished to be so. It was the home of the High Priestesses and he'd had a hand in the death of at least two, possibly three of them. Possibly the last. He was no friend of this place.

In an odd way, he almost felt the need to apologise to it, to explain that he'd done it for the greater good, but he doubted that the spirits of magic here would agree. They were different, he and they. Despite being a creature of magic he'd never felt like he was part of these old ways.

In the distance, he heard a creature let out a screaming cry and he hurried on, taking that as a warning; he should get about his business and be gone.

He didn't really know why he followed the path that he did, only that it felt like it was what he was supposed to do. He should probably worry about that - were these decisions even his own or was he being drawn into a terrible fate by vengeful spirits? - but he didn't take time to think on it as he entered the area with the altar. This was where Arthur had prepared to die and Lancelot had sacrificed himself instead, where the veil had torn and the barrier between worlds was weakest. Yes, of course it would be here.

He wasn't even surprised that the figure was waiting for him.

He hadn't seen Morgause in many years but the weak, shimmering vision before him was definitely her, he knew that before he even got near. As he approached, as close as he felt comfortable with, he saw the expression on her face; cold and somewhat impatient as she waited for him. She'd always been a beautiful woman - hard, but undoubtedly a beauty - but her face was now marred by faint traces of scars down one side, remnants of a clearly terrible wound that hadn't fully healed. He remembered how she'd struck her head against that pillar as he'd thrown her and wondered if it was really that blow that'd led to her death.

"I'm here," he said simply. Which was obvious, of course, but it was said in a pointed manner; he'd heeded her summons and she'd better make it good.

"Yes, and if this Isle was at its full strength you would not have been permitted." Her vision may be weak, but her voice was as strong and clear as it'd ever been. "No one who isn't of magic would be able to set foot here."

Merlin couldn't quite stop his mouth from quirking into a smile. Oh yes, that would be such a problem for him… It seemed that the afterlife had made her no more perceptive.

"Not even the great Emrys," she added, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

His expression fell, amusement giving away to shock, and her vision got stronger as she smiled in satisfaction.

"Yes, I know who you are, Emrys. As does Morgana. Her rage when she found out was quite the sight, I felt the ripples of it even here."

Merlin chilled to hear that. His secret had been held for so long - only three people in the kingdom knowing who he really was - and it was a cold shock to have his identity discussed so freely. And Morgana knew. He could only imagine how that'd made her hatred for him grow. Unless…

"Is she with you?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady, not wanting Morgause to believe that she had the upper hand.

Her smile was near predatory, clearly knowing that he wouldn't like her answer.

"No."

Merlin wasn't ashamed to admit he felt a little disappointed. He hadn't been able to bring himself to kill her outright, but it would have solved a lot of his problems if she'd died from her wound. Now he potentially had even more problems; a Morgana who knew who he was could be more dangerous than ever.

"Then if you know who I am," he said stubbornly, regaining his inner balance, head held high, "you know that an island of magic would welcome me with open arms."

Morgause scoffed at that. "Do not be so sure, young warlock. Did the traitor Gaius teach you nothing? Your magic is not like ours."

"No," he countered automatically, ignoring the jibe, "I don't use mine to hurt innocent people."

"And yet yours is the one that comes from the dark places."

Merlin was instantly quiet at that, mouth tightly shut. He could refute it, of course, but she was certainly right in one aspect; she knew much more about the origins and history of magic than he did. She'd been brought up in it whilst he'd been left in a village where no one understood what he was nor could guide him. He hated that she held that power over him - the power of knowledge - and he wouldn't betray his own ignorance further as he was sure she'd take advantage of it.

For all he was aware though, there were stories that supported what she said. Not that he would believe them. He knew what he felt when he used magic and it wasn't dark.

Except, a subversive part of him recalled, when he'd killed Agravaine. Something he'd very firmly tried to forget for fear of the path it would lead him down.

"The true magic users have always been the High Priestesses. We worked with nature and worshipped the Goddess. Sorcerers-" Morgause said the word as though it were a curse, "are rarer and often very powerful, but the Goddess considered their magic open to corruption. Their power came from the deep places of the earth that no one should touch."

Merlin looked defensive. That may be so, but he was a person, not just some creature enslaved to magic. He'd had a choice and he'd always made the one for the great good.

"I know nothing about your goddess and she knows nothing of me."

"What?" Morgause challenged boldly. "Do you put your faith in Arthur's one god instead? Their teachings would call our kind heretic and evil. They'd have you burned."

"Arthur isn't like that."

"Isn't he? I'm surprised you can still believe that, even after all this time, all these years of waiting for him to be the better man. How much longer will you wait, Emrys?"

"Nothing could be achieved over night," Merlin insisted angrily, not knowing why he should justify himself to her and yet unable to stop. "Not after all those years of Uther's teachings. It was always going to take time."

"Yes, and whilst you played the long game, how many of our kind died? How many were murdered by your king and his men in Uther's unjust revenge?"

"And how many did you kill in your revenge?" Merlin countered sharply.

"If you had let me kill Uther with the Knights of Medhir, instead of forcing my hand with your attempt at murder, Uther would've been long dead and we'd all have been free."

Merlin's hands balled into tight fists at his side, short nails digging into his palms. He'd been played for a fool here.

"Is this why you really called me here? To argue with me? To make me see the error of my ways? Well you've wasted your time."

He turned angrily, going to leave. He should've listened to Gaius for once. At least he'd go back with his head though. A small victory.

"I've only wasted my time if I've underestimated how much you care for your king," Morgause said, voice full of assurance, calling after him before he'd gone more than a few paces. "You'll help me, or Arthur will die."