Author's Note: OK folks, here is the second chapter that I am writing tonight. It is going to be quite long so I hope you guys like it. As for the last chapter I hope I get some more feedback from you guys because I was extremely nervous about writing it. It was dark, but I needed it to be to give Morgana a good enough reason to swallow her pride and hatred and return to Camelot. Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW and happy reading.

"I'm sorry," Arthur snapped, staring at the young guard incredulously. "Please repeat what you just said. I don't believe I heard you correctly."

Merlin couldn't help the flash of pity he felt as the young man shuffled nervously, licking his lips in an effort to wet them so he could speak.

"I-I said that the Lady Morgana is…well, she's…she's…."

"Here," Merlin supplied flatly, not at all sure how to react to this bit of news.

First they had been informed that Morgana and a force of a thousand men were steadily making their way towards Camelot with the goal of overtaking her by brute force. Now, however, it seemed that the witch had changed her mind, opting instead to come Camelot by herself waving the white flag. The only thing was that Merlin wasn't sure what her intentions could be, though he was positive they were nothing good.

"Here," Arthur repeated, pacing restlessly in front of his throne. "Why the hell would she come here? What could she possibly hope to find?"

The young guard looked from his agitated king to Merlin obviously unsure whether he was supposed to supply an answer. Merlin shook his head silently and the guard relaxed, blowing a quiet breath out from between his lips.

"Bring her," Arthur said suddenly, turning to fix the guard with an angry glare. "Bring her to me now."

"Arthur," Merlin began, his tone serving as a warning.

"Hush," his king interrupted, glancing at him severely. "I know what I'm doing. Guard, bring the witch to me and warn her that if she tries anything funny she'll be spending the night looking forward to the axe."

The young man saluted his king and strode from the room leaving Merlin and Arthur in silence. Merlin stared at his friend, watching as he attempted to work through his feelings, jaw clenching as rage coursed through him.

Arthur didn't show it often, but Morgana's betrayal had hit him harder than he'd let on. Despite their constant bickering the king had cared a great deal for her and could not, for the life of him, understand what he'd done to anger her so greatly.

"Arthur," Merlin ventured softly, aware that he was standing on shaky ground. "You know those moments when I tell you something is a bad idea and you don't listen?"

His king didn't answer but at least glanced at him and Merlin took this as a sign to continue.

"Don't make this one of those moments," the warlock said earnestly. "This is a trap, Arthur. It has to be!"

"Merlin," Arthur replied, voice thoughtful. "Would you say you are stronger than her? Magically speaking, I mean."

"Well…yes, but—"

"And wouldn't you agree that you have been studying magic far longer than she has?"

"Yes, but—"

"So you would agree that if she tries something you would be fully capable of protecting me?"

"Perhaps, but—"

"Then I have nothing to worry about then," the king finished, grinning wickedly at his friend. "You'll just….smite her or something."

"Smite her," the young warlock repeated. "Arthur, I don't think you really understand how we do—oh, never mind, sire. What I am trying to say is that nothing is a guarantee here, Arthur."

"Merlin, if you are going to speak at least try to make it intelligible, please."

"Right," the warlock sighed. "Idiot proof. Arthur, it isn't like she hasn't betrayed us before and now she has Shadow Spirits at her beck and call."

"The demons," Arthur questioned. "What exactly are these things, Merlin?"

"I don't know much," Merlin told him. "I only caught a glimpse of them when I was…when I was trapped in the Land of Shadow, sire. I asked Gaius what they were exactly and he didn't know, but Kilgarrah says that they are beings of great intelligence and will stop at nothing to fulfill whatever orders they have been given."

His king contemplated what his friend had told him for a long time, studying the doors with great intensity as he became lost in his thoughts. Finally, he turned back to Merlin and sighed.

"You may be right," he said. "But…but what if you aren't?"

"Sire, I—I'll stand by you in whatever you choose."

"Merlin," Arthur chided gently. "I thought we'd gotten past this. If you disagree with me then say so. You aren't my servant anymore."

"I know," Merlin replied, smiling softly. "I just…I want to believe that maybe Morgana wants peace as much as you do, but I have to be realistic."

Arthur cocked his head to the side in an invitation to continue, eyes focused intently on his friend's face.

"She's tried to kill me one too many times, sire. I have a hard time forgiving that."

"Interesting," Arthur said, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "I would have thought you would be the first to offer forgiveness."

"For anyone else, sire. But not for her."

"I have to know, Merlin. I have to know if she wants the peace that I have longed for these past few years. I don't like fighting with her and if there is a chance—any chance at all—I have to take it. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Merlin said softly. "I just hope you don't come to regret it."

"Trust, Merlin. That is all I ask of you, remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Good."

The two men turned as one to face the doors as they creaked open, the woman they'd been speaking of hidden behind a group of four guards. They marched towards them, each one holding a chain in his hand, before stopping at Arthur's feet. They parted and Morgana was forced to her knees, head bowed low in submission.

"Leave us," Arthur said softly, staring at his half sister with tortured eyes.

Merlin sighed audibly and his king turned his head to glare at him.

"Don't look at me like that," Merlin bristled. "If you insist upon dismissing the only protection we have then let it be you she tries to kill. I've been there one too many times myself."

"I've got you as protection," his king replied mildly. "I merely thought you would be man enough for the job. I guess I was incorrect in that assumption."

"Sire," Merlin snapped. "Insulting me is a bad way to go about changing my mind, you know."

"You two have not changed a bit," the young witch rasped from her spot on the floor. Both men stopped to look at her and Merlin felt his magic boiling at the sound of her voice.

She looked up at them, hair hanging in dirty strands around her face. She did not look well and Merlin couldn't help but note the shadows of sorrow written within her eyes though it did little to soften his heart. She had lost weight and looked waifish beneath her ragged, mud splattered dress.

Merlin could feel her power humming around him, but it felt tainted in a way he couldn't put his finger on. It felt oily and thick and it clung to his skin like dirt. He recoiled in disgust, nearly tripping over Arthur's feet as he did so. The king steadied him and looked at him strangely.

"It's all wrong," he coughed out, the feel of it stinging his nose and throat. "Her magic…it's tainted, Arthur."

The witch stared at him in surprise, obviously trying to understand just how he knew such an intimate detail about her, especially when it came to her magical abilities. He met her gaze defiantly, barely controlled anger and hurt simmering in his eyes. Morgana almost immediately looked away from him.

"Arthur," she began turning instead to her half brother.

"King Arthur," the young man corrected coldly. "You will address me with respect, Morgana. You've lost the right to call me by name."

Merlin watched as the young witch attempted to overcome her fury at being treated in such a manner and was surprised when she managed to swallow her pride.

"King Arthur," she said softly, bowing her head.

"Why are you here, Morgana? Come to try your hand at killing me?"

"No, Arthur I—"

"Because you won't be able to, you know. Merlin has more power in his pinky than you do in your whole body."

"Arthur," Merlin snapped in warning. "Enough."

"What," Arthur snapped. "It's true, isn't it? Your magic is five time stronger than hers and—"

"Magic," Morgana gasped, staring at Merlin as if she'd never seen him before. "You have magic?"

"He overestimates my abilities," Merlin informed the witch stonily.

"No, I don't," Arthur said, oblivious to his friends efforts at keeping the extent of his powers secret. "He's the most powerful warl—"

"Arthur," Merlin hissed. "I said enough."

His king shot him a wounded glance, but didn't continue any further in his admiration of his friend. Morgana continued to look at Merlin in astonishment, eyes wide and mouth open in disbelief.

"I never knew," she whispered. "Merlin, why didn't you tell me? We could have helped each other. We could have—"

"Do not think for an instant that my power is anything like yours," Merlin hissed dangerously, heedless of his king's shocked glance. "I have never worked for anything but the good of others and you—you disgraced what magic should represent, Morgana. I am nothing like you."

"No," the woman replied quietly after a long moment. "I suppose you are not."

"Why are you here," Arthur repeated, concerned with his friend's tone.

"To warn you," the witch replied, turning her attention from Merlin to Arthur.

"Warn us of what, Morgana?"

"Of what's coming," she replied, her voice breaking. "Of what I did…"

"Shadow Spirits," Merlin said quietly. "You brought them here. Why?"

"I wanted to use them," Morgana answered, once more staring at Merlin as if he were something confusing to her.

"To destroy us," Merlin hissed.

The witch nodded her head, shame and fear fighting for dominance on her face. Merlin's heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he felt his own terror striving to match hers.

"You lost control, didn't you," the warlock whispered in horror. "You lost control and now you're here to have us help clean up your mess."

"I didn't know," Morgana cried, tears spilling across her porcelain cheeks. "I didn't know what was going to happen—"

"And somehow that makes it alright," Merlin spat. "You of all people should know that forces of darkness can't be bent to your will, Morgana. How could you be so stupid?"

"Merlin," Arthur interjected, putting a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "Merlin, calm down. Just…stop, alright?"

"Thank you," Morgana said, turning to him.

"I wasn't doing it for you," Arthur replied, tone as unforgiving as ice.

The witch nodded in understanding, watching Merlin carefully as he attempted to rid himself of the anxiety threatening to overtake him. He clenched his fists and when that failed him he violently shrugged out from under Arthur's arm and began to pace furiously.

"So tell me," Arthur said, fully aware that Merlin's self-control was slowly unraveling. "What happened that suddenly changed your mind?"

"Merlin is right," the young woman whispered. "I lost control, though I am beginning to believe I never had it at all. They killed my men, Arthur. They killed them all just to—just to make a point to me."

"All of them," Arthur gasped. "But, our reports said that you had over a thousand men at your disposal."

"All true," Morgana whispered, tears falling unchecked down her face. "They are all dead now. I didn't know."

Merlin made a disgusted sound in his throat, so filled with fury and horror that he couldn't even speak. He wanted to be as calm as Arthur, but he wasn't blessed with the same ignorance as his king. Arthur maintained a childish belief that Merlin could overcome just about anything with his magic, though the warlock had attempted to dissuade his king from this line of thinking, knowing that his friend would be caught unprepared if his magic failed.

Even now, as Morgana told him of a force that had murdered a thousand men, Arthur didn't seem to be horribly concerned. If anything he seemed excited at putting his new secret weapon into action and Merlin found he was rather resentful at being used in such a way. Nevertheless, Merlin knew the gravity of the situation in which they had now found themselves in and Arthur remained as clueless as ever.

"Say that again," Merlin warned, words finally free again. "And I promise you'll regret it."

"Merlin," Arthur gasped. "What has gotten into you? You don't make threats. That's my job."

"Don't," he said sharply, inwardly wincing as his king stared at him, obviously wounded.

"I'm just saying that you aren't acting like yourself," his king said lamely.

"Arthur," Merlin said gently. "You are trying and I appreciate that, but you don't understand what she's done. Despite your belief in the contrary, I can't fix everything with a magic word and a happy thought. There are forces I have no hope of defeating. I thought you would have realized that after last spring, sire."

"That was different," Arthur argued. "You were dying, Merlin. You aren't dying now…unless you have something you aren't telling me."

"I'm fine," Merlin snapped. "But you still don't understand. I was dying because of what the darkness was doing to me, Arthur. I couldn't fight it. And these things….whatever they are…are far worse than anything I experienced. This isn't a problem we can simply fix, sire."

"He's right," Morgana whispered. "You can't hope to defeat them on your own, Arthur. You are going to need a plan…and a good one."

"How long," Merlin said, turning to her. "How long until they reach us?"

"I can't say for sure," Morgana answered. "A few days. A week at most. They need to gain their strength before they attack, but it will not take long."

"A week," Merlin repeated, paling. "That's not going to be long enough."

"Probably not," Morgana whispered. "But it is all we have."

Arthur had not said a word during their brief exchange and when Merlin turned back to him the warlock was disturbed to see a hopeless desperation within his sovereign's eyes.

"Arthur," he said softly. "Arthur, look at me will you?"

Instead the young king turned his eyes to his sister, the young woman flinching at the intensity of his gaze.

"Why," he rasped out. "What did I do to make you hate me this much, Morgana?"

"I was angry and scared," the woman whispered, head bowing under the weight of her guilt. "I—I hated your father so much and I let it control me, Arthur. I made a mistake."

"A mistake," Arthur repeated numbly. "You made a mistake."

"Arthur," Morgana began, but stopped at the look her brother gave her.

"Don't speak to me," he said harshly, gaze hard and unforgiving. "If you value your life at all you will remain silent, is that understood?"

Morgana nodded mutely, closing her eyes against the hatred clearly visible in Arthur's expression.

"My people's blood stains your hands," Arthur spat. "And all you can tell me is that you made a mistake. That is not good enough, Morgana. It will never be good enough. You…you betrayed me for crimes I didn't commit and blamed me for actions that weren't mine. I thought that I could forgive you, but I can't do it. Not after this."

"I didn't expect you to," Morgana replied softly, ignoring her brother's order of silence. "I do not think I can even forgive myself, Arthur. I only want to help. Please…let me help fix this."

Arthur stared at his sister for a long time, face unreadable, though Merlin noted the tension in his jaw and shoulders. He turned away from her suddenly, running a hand through his hair and sighing loudly.

"Merlin," he said, glancing at his friend. "What do you think?"

"I think we don't have a choice, sire. We need all the help we can get."

"And if she betrays us?"

"It doesn't make sense for her to do so, Arthur. She has nothing to gain from this."

"Our deaths would be a start," his king muttered darkly, but Merlin shook his head.

"You can't rule a kingdom if there is no one to rule," Merlin argued. "From the little I understand about the Shadow Spirits I believe that they will not rest until every citizen of Camelot is dead."

"So you trust her?"

"Hardly, sire. But…given our current situation I believe that exceptions must be made, don't you?"

"It does seem to be the reasonable course of action," Arthur agreed. "Though I detest having to do it."

Merlin didn't reply, but was thinking similar thoughts. This time, however, Merlin had the full range of his power at his disposal and would use it without hesitation if the witch attempted to betray them. They may die, but Merlin would make sure that he took Morgana with him.

"Fine," Arthur said. "Take her to the dungeon, Merlin. Then come speak to me in my chambers."

"Wait," Merlin said. "Why do I have to do it?"

"And here I was thinking you had a brain," Arthur drawled, rolling his eyes at his friend. "You have to do it because you are the only one equipped with the skills to do so."

"You can admit you're scared, sire. I won't tell anyone."

"I am NOT scared, Merlin. And you would to tell. The whole kingdom would know by morning. You can't keep a secret for the life of you."

"I think, if you really dig deep in that pea brain of yours, you will find that I can, indeed keep a secret. Perhaps I would have had more trouble doing so if you hadn't been so dimwitted, but luck was on my side it seems."

"I am not dimwitted, Merlin."

"So you admit that I can keep a secret?"

"No, I never said—"

"Sire, you can't have cake and eat it to, you know. Either I can keep a secret or you are dimwitted."

"Merlin, do you see this crown on top of my head?"

"Of course I do, sire. You wave it front of my face every morning."

"Do you understand the meaning behind it?"

"Unlike some people I know I am not dimwitted, Arthur. It means you're a prat."

"That is one interpretation."

"The only interpretation more like. I know you seem to think it gives you some sort of authority, but honestly, sire, people find it rather presumptuous of you."

"I'm the king, Merlin. It is my right to wear this crown."

"Perhaps, but just because you are something doesn't mean you can wear whatever you want. You have to earn that right, sire."

"Oh, this I have got to hear. How do I earn the right to wear a crown?"

"Well, polishing your own damn boots would be a start."

"But you do such a good job and you seem to enjoy it so much that I would feel rather guilty about taking it away from you. After all, it seems about the only task you can do properly."

Merlin was about to come back at his king with a rather witty, biting reply but was interrupted by a soft cough of impatience from his side. He turned to find Morgana raising her eyebrows in a bemused expression.

"As heartwarming as seeing you two banter like little girls," she said. "Perhaps, one of you would be so kind as to remove my chains. Or I can do it for you if you so prefer."

The young witch stood gracefully, the shackles falling from her wrists and ankles in a heap. Arthur flinched back, pulling Merlin firmly in front of him as if the young man were a shield.

"Not afraid," Merlin snorted. "Right."

"Shut up, Merlin. Go do your job."

The young warlock stared cautiously at his former friend before sighing and walking through the hall, beckoning Morgana to follow him. Suddenly, he got a clear image of her hurling a knife at his back and he dropped behind her, nudging her slightly when she paused. It was a long walk to the dungeons and the warlock was dreading every second of it.

At first Morgana remained silent and Merlin was grateful for the quiet. He didn't know what he would say to her anyways and he certainly didn't trust himself to remain calm and detached. It wasn't long, however, that Merlin's blessed silence was broken.

"You didn't tell me," Morgana whispered from behind him. "Why?"

"I didn't feel like sharing," Merlin snapped. "End of story."

"But—"

"But what, Morgana? Even if you had known I had magic it wouldn't have changed anything."

"You don't know that," Morgana whispered. "I felt so alone, Merlin. If I had known that someone else was like me then maybe I wouldn't have felt so afraid."

"You weren't forced to go down the road you chose," Merlin growled. "You made your decisions and now you have to deal with them."

"We were friends once," Morgana began. "Perhaps with time we can—"

"Stop," Merlin hissed, staring at her in revulsion. "Do not ever make the assumption that you and I can ever be anything but enemies, Morgana. You wanted me dead and was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen. But, surprise surprise, I am not the pushover you thought I was."

"If you hadn't interfered," Morgana snapped, briefly forgetting herself. "Then I wouldn't have had to kil—"

She stopped at the knowing look on his face, watching as he smiled sadly.

"You see," he said softly. "Even now you can't let go of your hatred entirely."

"If you recall," Morgana said coldly. "It was you who tried to kill me first."

"Yes," Merlin replied, lips curving into a sad smile once more. "I did, but not out of hatred or anger, Morgana. I hated myself for a long time, but I've come to terms with what I did and I know that I made the right choice, no matter how hard it was to do."

"The right choice," Morgana cried, appalled. "Killing me was the right choice?"

"If it meant saving everyone else, absolutely. Morguase was using you as a tool to ground her spell and I had no other way to stop it. It was a horrid thing to have to do, but it had to be done."

"You can't honestly believe that," the witch scoffed.

"I do, though whether you can see the truth in that matters very little to me."

"But—"

"I'm done with this discussion," Merlin snapped, glaring at her. "What's done is done, Morgana. There is no use trying to dissect the past, it won't change anything."

Morgana shut her mouth with a snap, but her chin quivered as if she were holding back tears. Merlin sighed and nudged her shoulder indicating she should begin walking once more.

"How long have you had magic," she whispered after a moment.

"Long enough," the young warlock hedged.

"You told Arthur," she said softly and looked back at him in confusion.

"What?"

"You told Arthur about your magic."

"Yes," he said cautiously. "And?"

"He just accepted it? Just like that?"

"No," Merlin sighed, smiling slightly. "Not just like that. There were a lot of things we had to work out, but when you share a bond with someone it becomes much easier to find a way to manage the things you may not like about them. Besides, I am sure the fact that I was dying helped a little."

His smile abruptly fell as he remembered who he was speaking to and he grimaced, a bit alarmed at how easily he'd slipped back into being a friend.

"I thought Arthur would be more like his father," Morgana said quietly.

"Well, he's not. And I would remind you that Uther was your father to."

"No, he wasn't. He was a cruel tyrant, but he was never my father."

"Yes, Uther could be cruel," Merlin replied. "But how are you any better?"

"Excuse me, Merlin?"

"You two are more alike than you think. The same petty need for revenge, the same blind hatred, the same selfish drive to get what you desire no matter whom or what stands in your way. If anyone is different from Uther it would be Arthur."

"Arthur worshiped him," Morgana spat. "He followed him around like a puppy just waiting to undertake some suicidal quest in the hopes that one day Uther would show an ounce of affection towards him. Arthur is predictable because he makes the same decisions his father did."

"And yet," Merlin said softly. "Here I am, alive and well despite my magical abilities. If it had been Uther I would have been ashes in the wind by now."

"He will turn on you, eventually, Merlin. He won't change anything."

"You are wrong about him. He already presented the legalization of magic to the court."

"What," Morgana asked astonished. "That's impossible."

"You know," Merlin said as they descended the dungeon stairs. "I find it amazing that you can think so poorly of him. All he's ever done is care for you though it may have been in his own roundabout way."

"He was Uther's," Morgana whispered. "I couldn't stand him because he reminded me of Uther."

Merlin pursed his lips and nodded briefly to the three bored guards that patrolled the dungeon floors. He led Morgana around a corner and down another flight of stairs until he reached the bottom dungeon, grimy floor awash with distant moonlight.

The straw was clean, unlike what would be found in other cells, and smelled vaguely of horses. Merlin had even placed a little cloth filled mattress within because he believed that everyone deserved at least minor comfort.

"I designed this," he told Morgana, tone expressionless. "Arthur asked me to a few weeks after he found out about my magic. He said he wanted something that would stand up against most spells thrown at it. You can try and unlock the door, but it won't work."

"I won't try," Morgana said softly. "I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to fix the mess I made."

"Maybe you were and maybe you weren't," Merlin replied coldly, walking her into her cell. "I suppose we will soon see."

He made to leave but stopped, turning to face her, eyes glinting with a steely danger.

"The Druids have foretold your destiny, have they not," he asked her, voice colder than he had ever heard it. "From what I understand your demise will be brought around by a man named Emrys and you are powerless to stop it."

"How do you know that name," Morgana whispered, fear causing her words to crack.

"I know Emrys well," Merlin answered. "You might say I know him as well as I know myself. Do you know why that is, Morgana?"

She shook her head mutely and while Merlin took no joy in the threat he was about to issue he also knew the truth of his words.

"Because Emrys and I are one and the same, Morgana. I am the one you fear so horribly."

"No," Morgana gasped out, eyes wide in horror. "You can't be, Merlin. You just…you can't!"

"I can and I am," Merlin replied icily. "Know this, Morgana. If any of the people I love are harmed because of your actions I will not rest until you have paid for their suffering. I abhor violence, Morgana, but do not think I will not use it if I have to. You will not hurt them and if that means I fulfill my role within your life as Emrys then so be it. I will not hesitate."

She stared at him as he closed the thick iron door, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. He met her gaze calmly and she shivered before turning her back to him, choosing to gaze at the moon through the iron bars instead.

Merlin turned the key rather viciously as if he blamed it for the sorrow, guilt, and anger he felt. He quickly made his way back down the hall, but was stopped when Morgana whispered something to him.

"What," he snapped in irritation.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, turning her face towards him. "I'm sorry for everything."

Merlin was quiet for a long time. He wished he could believe her words, but knew that it would be a grave mistake on his part if he did so. The witch had fooled him once and could easily do so again if he wasn't careful.

"Maybe you are," Merlin replied softly. "We'll just have to wait and see won't we?"

She did not say anything more to him and Merlin slowly made his way back up to Arthur's chambers, feet like lead blocks. He was exhausted and had been without sleep for well over a day. He had hoped that he might be able to get some rest, but with the days events fresh on his mind he knew that would be very unlikely.

His lack of sleep gave him a sort of dazed, unfocused feeling and now that he was alone he felt his limbs refusing to move in the ways he wanted them to. Which was a shame, really, for if Merlin had been more aware of his surroundings instead of concentrating entirely on the movement of his feet he might have noticed the corpse like horror rising swiftly from the shadows, claws raised and ready to strike with deadly efficiency.