Last chapter already? Okay well here goes nothing…

Several winters passed, each one colder than the next. These winters would see the death of a king and the crowning of a greater one. They would see the queen's scepter resting in the calloused hand of a servant girl, a sword wrought by magic wielded by a Pendragon, the rise and self-discovery of the warlock named Emrys, the knighting of Mordred and the dawn of a new age for Camelot.

And all this time Morgana's mind teetered precariously at the chasm of insanity outstretched before her as the lines of past, present, and future blurred into one. Visions that once haunted her only in dreams now flickered in daylight hours. Glints of sunlight blazing off of Excalibur blinded her eyes. The icy blue eyes of Mordred stared into her own when she gazed out into nothingness. Soldiers bled around her bedside, broken crowns shattered under her feet. And whenever Morgana turned her head, even just slightly, she could make out the shape of a white bearded man standing just within the shadow her blind spot. The witch would whirl her head around in a hasty heartbeat, but he would be gone, only to reappear in the corner of her eye when she swiveled her head again.

"Come out, come out," Morgana would sing under her breath as her bane chased her around her head. "When will Emrys come out to play?"

She could not move without thinking about him, without fearing him and hating him just as she feared and hated herself. The warlock was always half a step behind Morgana; even as she felt herself rising on the waves of victory, she could feel his viselike grip dragging her down into her hovel once more.

"It is not such a hovel now," she told the man in the corner of her eye presently. "It is a palace."

And indeed it was magnificent. What had once been a shack in the woods had slowly been transformed into a massive underground stronghold with rich halls that rivaled that of Camelot's. Morgana's slowly growing legion of men had built it over the last few seasons, and now the witch thought it fit for royalty. In fact, it was fit for a king.

It was time her brother paid her a visit. With this resolution set in her mind, Morgana rolled up her black cloak's sleeves and went to work. Her preparations were beginning to stretch themselves out before her when the sorceress received a most unwelcome and unexpected visitor.

He materialized inside of her chambers, hooded in dark green just as he had as a child. But Mordred was no child any longer. He was a filled out man with emptied out eyes. More importantly, he was a traitor. The moment Morgana's widened eyes took in the sight of the sorcerer, she could feel the blade slicing open her skin again, rending muscle from bone. She could feel the bitterness of betrayal, the loss of one as dear as a brother to her, as freshly as it had occurred a little less than a year earlier.

"Get out," Morgana hissed. She raised her hands up and braced herself for magic.

"No, I don't think I will," Mordred said quietly, strolling leisurely up to her. "And I don't think you can make me."

Morgana's eyes flashed dangerously. "How dare you. How dare you trespass on my territory after all you have done and venture to deny my authority. You will pay dearly for what you have done."

The witch thrust her hands forward, aiming to slash open Mordred's neck with an efficient cutting enchantment. Fire burned around Morgana the moment the spell left her fingertips, igniting her hair and clothing with searing flames. She shrieked and thrashed about until the man repealed the spell seconds later, his eyes chillingly unsympathetic.

"Oh, Morgana," Mordred said sadly, coming to kneel beside the crumpled witch. "How far you have fallen. I used to see an older sister in you, a confident, an advisor. Now I see nothing but a hateful child."

"What do you want with me?" Morgana asked. Her voice was brittle ice, ready to be cracked.

"A temporary alliance."

The witch raised her dirt encrusted face up to meet Mordred's. "I don't believe you."

"Then listen to the events that transpired three days past."

Because she had no choice, Morgana consented.

Mordred froze as he and the other knights crested the top of the knoll. Even in the soupy fog, he could make out the village unfurled before them, and it chilled his blood.

"In all my years of searching for this druid town, I would have never suspected it here, so close to Camelot," Arthur mused from one saddle over. "My father would be furious had he seen the village here, right under our very noses." He straightened up to address the group. Mordred's fingers tightened around his reigns as he tried not to cry out. "The insubordinates must be punished. Capture the leaders. Burn the meeting hall. Kill the men, but let the women and children escape. We are here to teach a lesson, not to conduct a massacre."

Mordred swallowed slowly. He could not reveal his magic now. He had started a new life in Camelot, he had made friends, he had changed. But Arthur was threatening the very people who had embraced him as their own, who had raised him as a son after Morgana left him to find his own way so many years ago. Mordred could not stand and do nothing.

"Is this really necessary, my lord?" he asked Arthur, trying to wring the pain out of his voice. "Killing the men, scattering the families? Yes, a faction of the Dark Society takes up residence here. But how can we punish a village for the mistakes of a few?"

The king sighed wearily. "The Dark Society is the largest clan of black magic users in the region, Mordred. Only by spreading fear can we undermine the group and spread disunity within its numbers. An example must be made."

"But sire—"

"Mordred, I know the druid people hold a special place in your heart. But now, as a sworn knight of Camelot, your first duty is to me and the citizens of the land. I truly am sorry. But you must prove to me your loyalty by crushing this weed of evil sorcery."

Mordred nodded, ducking his head so that Arthur could not see the rage that tightened his face. The druids were his family; how could the king not see that? And how could he ask Mordred to destroy faces that he had grown to look upon so fondly, burn the houses he had called his home for those happy years? Mordred's fists shook when they clenched together. Arthur forced him to hide his magic, to pretend to be something he was not, to live in fear and secrecy, to declare his allegiance to the enemy of his identity. And Mordred had done so, all willingly. But this? This was too much.

Mordred would neither forget nor forgive this.

And so the screams of his adopted mother, his childhood love, his wise mentor— they echoed in his head all the way back to Camelot. The despairing eyes that shone before they flickered shut, the flames that licked the rooftops he set aflame, the accusing fingers that twitched at his heart before death stilled them, these images plagued his mind as he rode through the roads. Mordred's heart wept bitterly until he forced it into silence, into stone. Something snapped inside of him. Suddenly Mordred was weary, no, bone tired of all the secrets, all the pretending, all the sacrifices. It was time Arthur sacrificed. It was time the king suffered at the hands of a sorcerer for a change.

And so Mordred sought out an old friend, an adopted older sister. He was not pleased with what he found.

"You were slow to realize the evils of the Pendragons," Morgana told Mordred, her voice sorrow-laden for the sorcerer's loss. "And for that, I no longer can trust you as I once did. But I will help you, Mordred, as you give me little choice. What do you want?"

"I want to make Arthur Pendragon beg for death," Mordred said. His face was as stoic as a cliffside.

"I am sorry. The king no longer drives my actions. There is another's whose death I seek now."

Mordred eyes her with interest. "And who might that be?"

"The one destined to kill me," Morgana snarled. "The one who ever evades me. Emrys."

Mordred's lips parted. He paused a moment before laughing briefly and harshly. "But of course. The bane of Morgan le Fey. This will be most interesting."

"Interesting," Morgana breathed, a lanky lock falling in front of her face. "What do you mean? Mordred, do you know this man?"

"Oh yes. And you do, too."

The witch's eyes blinked rapidly. "Tell me everything you know! I must know! I must kill him!"

"You know him well, yet you do not truly know him at all. He has dwelled within the halls of Camelot all these years, helping Arthur rise, watching you fall."

"Lies. I would have seen him. I would have known. A strange man with a long white beard. How could he hide?"

Mordred shook his head. "Your fear of Emrys hampers your mind, Morgana. You know as well as I that sorcerers are capable of many disguises."

"Yes, yes, of course," the witch murmured. "All this time, so close to me and Arthur. My plan will work, then."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Capture Arthur. He will be the bait for Emrys, who will no doubt run straight to the king's rescue. Two sides of the same coin, are they not? And then Emrys will be mine."

"I suspected you had a plan to harm Arthur. That was why I came here, to claim my part in his destruction."

"It is Emrys's destruction I desire," Morgana admitted, "not Arthur's."

"Then let me handle the king as I see fit. Please. I must have my revenge," Mordred implored.

Morgana's eyebrows shot downward. "No. This is my scheme and my brother. I will be the one to see how he is disposed of."

Mordred rose to his feet. "I will have my revenge, Morgana. And you are too weak to deny me this right."

"Mordred," the sorceress growled, clambering to her feet as well. "I will not allow—"

"How do you intend to capture Arthur?"

"I—well, preparations are being made. I'll lure him out of the castle, let the knights witness his abduction by my hand. Then word will reach Emrys, and he will march on my fortress. He has trespassed here before; he knows where to find me."

"I will provide the lure," Mordred said, straightening up. "Tomorrow, at nightfall, I will lead Arthur and his knights to the Witch's Grove. Do what you must to take him. Just know that I will have my revenge." He raised his arms into the air, no doubt about to use an enchantment to disappear from the castle.

"I refuse to be your ally under these terms!" Morgana screamed, rushing at him. "And I will never let you have Arthur!"

"I think you will," Mordred said softly, which somehow sounded menacing.

"And why is that?"

"Because only I know Emrys's true identity," he said, a wicked grin tugging its way across his face, "and you will pay dearly for it."

Without another word, Mordred melted into the shadows, disappearing from sight.

"The first time I thought it was a trick of my mind, and the second time a coincidence. But now, after witnessing the freakish lights dance around Witch's Grove for the third time in three nights, I believe them to be the result of witchcraft, my lord."

Arthur frowned at Mordred from where he sat on the throne. "The grove has often displayed magical qualities throughout the years. Perhaps these strange lights are another example of its mysterious powers."

"I do not think so, sire. The last time I witnessed the magic, on my patrol last night, I saw a figure dart behind the trees after the supposed enchantment died away. I am certain sorcery is at work. Should we not investigate tonight, my lord?"

Arthur's eyes flickered to where Melin stood, hands crossed over his chest, a sour look on his face. That put the king at unease. Though Arthur would never admit it, his servant seemed to possess some kind of sixth sense; it seemed he could sniff out danger before any others could. Arthur studied Mordred's face carefully.

"Are you certain of what you have seen, Sir Mordred?"

"Positive, sire."

The knight's sure gaze fastened to Arthur's, and the king finally gave in with a sigh. "I will lead a party tonight to investigate. Thank you for reporting this."

Mordred bowed and stepped aside as Arthur stood. "A word with you, Merlin," the king said, snatching the back of his servant's coat and hauling him out of the room.

"What's this about?" Merlin asked, looking guilty for no reason at all.

"You don't approve of the mission. Why?"

"I—it's just that I don't fully believe Mordred is telling the truth."

"You are suggesting one of my most trustworthy knights is a liar?" Arthur demanded.

"No—well, it's just that I was mucking out the stables last night, just as you requested, and Mordred's horse was there. How could he be on patrol without his horse?"

"He probably borrowed someone else's," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Merlin, you can't just accuse someone of lying just because of a minor detail like that."

"Actually, you can," Merlin snapped. "I just don't like it, okay? Be careful."

"When am I not?" Arthur said, which caused his servant to mumble something suspiciously like "dollop head" under his breath.

The king chose to ignore this.

Arthur tugged at his reigns, pulling his horse to a halt. He gnawed at the inside of his mouth as he gazed upon the Witch's Grove, a dark clearing surrounded by gnarled trees that sat within Camelot's outer forest.

"Gather around. Keep your weapons unsheathed. Nightfall is nearly upon us, and we must be ready for anything," Arthur advised his knights. They nudged their horses into a horseshoe formation around the grove in relative silence, save the clinking of swords escaping their sheaths.

"Any minute now," Mordred said, observing the last rays of sunlight that still clung to the horizon.

Merlin pulled his horse closer to Arthur's. "Remember what we're up against. This is magic, not a beast you can stab with a sword."

"I can stab a sorcerer, can't I?" Arthur turned the golden hilt of his fine sword in his hand.

"Let's hope."

"Honestly, Merlin, sometimes I wonder if you're secretly a little girl trapped in a man's body."

"Lighten up, Merlin," Leon grinned to the servant. "I mean, what's the worst thing that can happen?"

A massive orb of blue light suddenly materialized in the center of the grove, quickly swelling with size until it filled the entire clearing.

"What in the name of Avalon," growled Arthur, but he couldn't manage another word. For at that moment, the sphere contracted and exploded with energy that sent every other knight flying backwards through the air. Their horses fled into the woods, leaving Arthur's friends stranded on the ground, two of them unconscious. But the force had spared Arthur, for a reason beyond his understanding. The king sat intact on his horse, sword tight in his grasp, gazing at a silhouette that was emerging from the blue light.

"Brother dear," Morgana's cool voice sounded like a smirk. "It's been too long, don't you think?"

Arthur held up his blade, kicking his horse forward. His nostrils flared as he beheld the witch. Hatred blazed inside of him, bitterness filled his mouth. "You are foolish to enter my territory, Morgana. Flee now, before I am forced to kill you."

"I will not leave until I've taken what I've come for," she said with a disconcerting smile.

"Get back, Arthur!" Merlin yelled from behind him. His friend had miraculously staggered to his feet and was stumbling towards the grove. Gwaine uprighted himself beside the servant, and Percival stirred from where he was buried in brambles. Morgana frowned once she noticed this.

"Come now, brother. It's best you cooperate with me."

"What do you want?"

"Isn't it simple? I want you," Morgana crooned, raising her arms into the air. "Eft resurgam!"

The incantation lit the grove in orange and red. Flames leapt into the air, circling both her and Arthur, and the king shouted out as his horse reared and tossed him onto the ground.

"Arthur!" several of the knights shouted out, but even as they charged the fire, it only grew thicker and higher around their king.

"Stop, Morgana!" Arthur screamed. He clambered to his feet, though the flames were slowly suffocating him, and brandished his sword. "I have no choice but to kill you!"

"Don't flatter yourself," Morgana snarled. With a quick thrust of her hand, Arthur's blade soared out of his hand and embedded itself on a distant tree. "You're much too weak for that."

Vines that looped their way across the forest floor now rose around Arthur and entangled his arms and legs. He thrashed and struggled, but the makeshift net forced his body to collapse on the ground. Morgana drew her arms toward her body and the king shot through the air to land at her feet. "Now that's the cooperation I was looking for."

The flames flickered around her, as if a gust of wind had forced them to part. And then they died down to a simple glowing ring. Morgana's jaw clamped down. Her eyes had never looked so huge.

"Emrys!" she cried, voice shrill. "How kind of you to join us! Why don't you come and play?"

Arthur rolled away from Morgana in his net, towards the edge of the grove. If he could get close enough for one of the knights to cut him loose, he might be able to escape. It seemed Morgana's power over her enchantment was weakening…almost as some other force was fighting her. That didn't make any sense, magic working in Arthur's favor, but the king could find no other explanation.

Sweat dripped from Morgana's face as she lifted her arms again, this time with much more exhaustion on her face. The fires lifted again, nearly scorching Arthur's face as he tried to crawl away from his oppressor.

Morgana cackled almost hysterically. "You see, Emrys? I am more powerful than you will ever be. You will learn this very, very soon."

She bowed her head and drew her hands to her chest. Then, with a reverberating cry, the witch unfurled her arms. The fire shot outwards, its flames reaching out to where Gwaine, Percival, and Merlin stood, and the energy that the flames rode upon threw the three against an outcrop of boulders. They collapsed like limp rag dolls on the forest floor.

"No!" Arthur shouted. He thrashed in his bonds.

"Come and get me, Emrys," Morgana sneered to the forest. A small beckoning of her finger sent Arthur flying onto the back of a black horse just within the shadows beyond the grove. The witch swung onto the mount as well, casting a final glance behind her.

Mordred was there, standing in the trees, watching her watch him. He nodded to her once, a grim smile on his features, and then stepped back into the blackness. Morgana hissed under her breath. She tried to ignore the fear welling up in her heart as she rode away with her captive into the night.

So, I lied. This isn't the last chapter. I found that I needed to split the ending into two parts, so this is part one. My final update should come sometime later this week.

Reviews are always appreciated.