Disclaimer: IDOM

AN: Well, it appears that these supposedly "short" chapters will not be so short. The first 5,000 or so words has absolutely no Morgana in it whatsoever, actually… :P Weird how things turn out. I feel that the length, though monstrous, is justifiable, given that there's a hell of a lot of revelations in this chapter.

Quick overview: Not that much humor here, plenty of angst, some defensive!Arthur and bromance, and surprisingly enough, BAMFness from Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen. ;) (This fic will now have a T rating, by the way...:D)

Anyway, you cannot imagine how much fun I had playing around with plot-holes. No idea. I hope you enjoy how I filled them. ;D

First lyric is for Merlin and Arthur, the second refers more to the differences between Morgana and Merlin.

"We can't afford to be innocent

Stand up and face the enemy."

(Song: "Invincible [Theme from 'The Legend of Billie Jean']" from Pat Benatar's 1985 album Seven the Hard Way)

…

"You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice

If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice

You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill

I will choose a path that's clear, I will choose freewill."

(Song: "Freewill" from Rush's 1980 album Permanent Waves)

Scene 5: Understanding Emrys

~Part II: Morgana~

"The guards say she's begun to twitch and mumble," Merlin said. "It'll only be a matter of time. My prediction's that you have no less than a quarter of an hour, no more than half an hour before she's fully conscious."

Arthur, who had stood stock-still, furrowed his brow, and stared broodingly at the floor as he absorbed the news of this development—even though he knew that Morgana would be awaking sometime, he was more surprised than he'd care to admit about how suddenly she woke up and waspanicky when he realized that he really wasn't prepared for her to wake up just yet—barely registered Merlin's voice until he heard the one word that was beginning to irritate the bloody hell out of him.

You.

Why did those closest to him seem to think that he didn't want them there at his side? It was beginning to become almost offensive.

"Merlin," Arthur asked with an annoyed and teasing bite to his words, "what in the world makes you think that I'm not dragging you along with me?"

The servant, taken aback, blinked incredulously and shuffled backwards, and after a moment, unease filtered into his eyes. "What?" he asked in a low, controlled voice.

"You are accompanying me to see her," Arthur said carefully, unsure what to make of his friend's reaction. "Gwen, too, I should think?"

Biting the inside of her lower lip, the woman-in-question's eyes widened marginally, and after flicking her worried gaze to a rigid, tense Merlin, she jerked a determined nod.

To say that Arthur did not understand was an understatement. Here was Merlin, who had no fear when speaking to dragons (it was becoming relatively easier to say) and who had singlehandedly captured the witch and prevented her from escaping without so much as a blink of an eye—here was Merlin, frightened, it appeared, to go down to the dungeons to speak with Morgana when she was locked behind bars and being carefully monitored and drugged with a magical-suppressing potion that he and Gaius had dug up…

But judging by the silent argument that was exchanged between Gwen and Merlin, whose helpless blue eyes begged with her, Gwen understood...at least in part.

Interesting.

"Arthur, I really—"

"You're not needed in the infirmary, are you?" Arthur interrupted with one cocked eyebrow. "Gaius can spare you?"

"…No, and yes, but…" he trailed off evasively, obviously searching for a way out. Suddenly, he tilted his head to one side contemplatively, frowned, and groaned, "I really do need to clean your room, don't I?"

Incredulous at Merlin's abrupt, bizarre change of tone, posture, attitude, and mood, Arthur was left gaping, and he, having quite forgotten the state it was in, quickly surveyed the room. "Ah, about that…" the King drawled with a mock-thoughtfulness. "Yes, you're right, of course. By tonight, Merlin, you had better magic these bloody chambers spotless because I really don't to spend another damn night—"

Oomph. A muffled puff of air was knocked from his lungs as Gwen inconspicuously jabbed her elbow into his ribs in urgent warning.

His sapphire eyes shifted to her in confusion, but her crazed, pointed what-the-hell-are-you-thinking? look was enough to make his heart sink as he realized what he had let slip…

Dammit.

Flinching and cursing himself for his stupidity, Arthur, who suddenly felt very nauseous and weak-kneed, cautiously turned his gaze back onto Merlin.

Who didn't look at all stunned, afraid, forcibly composed, falsely confused, or even remotely suspicious.

No, the moron was grinning.

Thank gods Merlin was thick enough to think it was purely a joke.

Or was it just that? There was something almost unnervingly ecstatic in Merlin's glowing eyes, and after a moment, Arthur, whose violently swooping gut began to calm again, realized why that was.

Pendragons did not usually make such nonchalant comments or jokes about magic.

"Of course," Merlin laughed sarcastically, his kaleidoscopic blue eyes shining with amusement. "Would you prefer I wiggle my fingers and say a few nonsense words or summon my immensely powerful, rune-covered magical staff to do it for me?"

It wouldn't have surprised Arthur in the slightest if Merlin did, in fact, have such an artifact, and the King, deciding not to wonder and rolling his eyes, said dismissively, "Whichever makes you happy, Merlin."

A diabolical smirk spread across the sorcerer's face as he paced further into the room. "Be careful what you wish for," he said, bending over and tenderly fingering at the red canopy that had once hung above his bed. "I might just do so and end up making even more of a mess."

"I don't doubt," Arthur teased. He grabbed an unsuspecting Merlin by the back of the neckerchief and said, "Now, stop stalling, Merlin."

His face fell. "But—"

"You can do it later. I want you to be there when I question Morgana."

Camelot's King then began to pull the resisting servant along, but Merlin, whose eyes had immediately lost their humor and became chillingly unreadable with the vortex of emotion swirling there, soon wiggled his way free of Arthur's grip.

"What's gotten into you today?" the King asked incredulously, his annoyance at Merlin's pigheadedness flaring.

Merlin started. "Nothing," he denied too quickly, his eyes wide and feignedly innocent. Paired with his crazy hair, which stuck up in all directions, Arthur was almost convinced.

Almost.

"You're actually offering and insisting to clean and portraying initiative!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Hey, now, I portray plenty of initiative!" Merlin protested.

Arthur, as expected, ignored him and continued as though Merlin hadn't spoken at all, "Don't 'nothing,' me, Merlin, and by gods, don't lie to me. You're usually squirming and worming your way out of every chore or procrastinating and using Gaius as an excuse or going off to the tavern when you should be working…

"Something's troubling you, and if you don't give me a damn good reason as to why you're avoiding this—"

"I'm not avoiding it," Merlin snapped defensively.

Snorting, the King quipped sarcastically, "Could've fooled me."

The servant's jaw clenched, and after Arthur caught sight of his eyes darkening, they were harshly lowered to the floor. "I don't want to fight with you, Arthur," Merlin said in a dangerously quiet and careful voice. "But…trust me: I just don't think it's a good idea."

"And why is that?" Arthur asked challengingly, not cowed by his servant's cold tone. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gwen shift forward, looking as though she wanted to go and comfort him.

Those familiar dusky blue eyes, usually so expressive and open, flicked to his and immediately slid an impenetrable shield over themselves, leaving behind a guarded, emotionless Merlin. It was a sight that soothed Arthur's mild, exasperated ire and yet sent a silent chill through his body.

"Merlin?" he asked in a gentler voice.

The younger man stiffened, and after seeing Arthur's sapphire eyes soften and after studying the King vigilantly, Merlin's mask faltered, and he admitted in a low voice, "She wouldn't be too happy to see me."

With his brow heavy and frown deep in his confusion, Arthur opened his mouth, but before he could so much as release one syllable, Merlin muttered slowly with a flash of guilt and self-loathing flitting through his eyes, "And she'll—she might say some things that would better be left unsaid." Under his breath, he specified, "Some things I'd rather were left unsaid."

Arthur's eyes widened at his friend's openness and the elusive pain in his eyes, which left him with more questions than answers. It was worrying…to think that Morgana had something on Merlin that made him so reluctant, so afraid, and so shamed—yes, there was a desperateness in his eyes that suggested whatever it was that happened between him and Morgana…it was not something he was proud of. At all.

Of course, it wasn't the magic. No, not that—it couldn't be—but it was all too easy to see, without magic even being necessary, Merlin, who had that tendency to stick his nose into everyone's business, clashing with Morgana, fighting her in a battle of wills and intelligence, marking her every movement…

Gods knew how many of her plots he thwarted when she was still Uther's "loving ward." Gods knew what other confrontations the pair of them had had in the past year alone.

"What can she possibly have on you, Merlin?" Arthur found himself asking in a concerned, quiet voice.

He had hit the nail directly on the head.

The emotionless, cool shield shattered, and as vulnerability leaked into Merlin's eyes, he shuffled his feet and cast his gaze away in a vain attempt to hide from Arthur's searching look and Gwen's sympathetic eyes.

"Why not tell him, Merlin?"

Arthur and Merlin, as one, whirled to Gwen with identical, comical expressions of disbelief.

Once recovered, the King stared at his lover as she regarded Merlin, whose forehead crinkled with reluctance and pain, calmly.

"Gwen…" Merlin whispered, his voice cracking.

She, ignoring the inquiries in Arthur's eyes, took a step forward, gently took hold of his arm, and squeezed it. The sorcerer, so much taller than Gwen, couldn't find it in himself to look at her and instead stared mindlessly at her hand on his arm.

"Wouldn't you rather," Gwen asked softly, "tell Arthur yourself than have Morgana tell it for you?"

Merlin's shoulders lost their tenseness and folded inward, but after a deep sigh and after a brief glance up at Arthur from under his lashes, those shoulders squared themselves stubbornly just as those eyes shone with guilt and shame.

"There's more, Gwen, that you don't know," Merlin croaked.

"Merlin, we're your friends," she said. "No matter what you've done… Friends stick by each other. For better or for worse. 'Til the end."

Throughout this speech, Merlin and Arthur's eyes remained locked, and Arthur had seen every emotion pass through his friend's…lingering anger and pity, the briefest flash of selfless loyalty, hurt, dark humor, self-disgust, sadness, remorsefulness, and most horrible of them all: fear. Fear that Arthur would reject him and look upon him as something less for what he had done…

But despite all that—there must've been such an intense agreement in Arthur's eyes that despite all of his insecurities (insecurities that the King had never known Merlin had), Merlin turned out of Gwen's hold and faced Arthur with a resigned, determined look in his eyes, which looked far too old to be set in so guileless a face.

"I'm not sure…what to say," Merlin said slowly as he closed the bedchamber door. "Or where to start. Gwen, I haven't even told Gaius how I feel about this."

"Start with what I already know," Gwen said soothingly, "The rest…will come in time."

Merlin pursed his lips and continued watching and studying Arthur's expression in silence as he searched for the right words.

Arthur, rather uncomfortable and feeling as though he was pressuring Merlin to reveal his secrets, broke the silence with: "Merlin, where Morgana's concerned, whatever you and she..." he trailed off, and tried again, "I hope you don't think I'll judge you—"

The sorcerer's face darkened, and he spat sinisterly, "You well should!"

"Merlin!" Gwen exclaimed in horror and in surprise.

The soulful blue eyes turned to her, and he said, "If I wasn't so weak…"

"Don't you dare blame yourself," Gwen ordered.

"How can't I, Gwen?" Merlin asked. "I almost destroyed everything. And I was forced to forget and deny my oaths, my ideals, my loyalties…"

"You weren't yourself, Merlin!" Gwen argued.

"That's no excuse. Not when I could have—"

Gwen was quick to interrupt. "But you didn't. You found a way."

Horribly confused, Arthur frowned and asked slowly, "Didn't what?"

Merlin's stormy blue eyes bored into his, and with wariness and shame returning to them, he began with a hoarse voice, "I've done many things I'm certainly not proud of, Arthur. Especially when it comes to Morgana. But this—I don't think that there's anything I'm more ashamed of."

Arthur blinked in astonishment, and Merlin continued with the utmost seriousness, "But Gwen's right. I should tell you myself. At least this. The other things…Morgana can tell you. Because I know I was doing the right thing, and even though I feel guilty and dwell on the 'what if's, I've come to terms with my mistakes and with what I've had to become to make some of the decisions I've made because I know far too well that there was nothing I could have done to change anything in the end. But this—this—" Merlin's voice broke, and with a shaky breath, he finished, "This was bad. Unforgivable. Not only for you, but for me. I've disgraced myself."

The King inhaled sharply and withholding the urge to smack the idiot about the head for degrading himself in such a way, he said, "Merlin, it can't possibly be as bad as you suggest."

"No, it's worse," Merlin denied bluntly with hard, relentless eyes.

Arthur's eyes skipped across Merlin's stone-cold face and the teary, apologetic eyes, and he asked, "What happened?"

"When I was injured," the servant said cautiously, "you remember—after we were attacked…when were separated by the rock-fall and you found me in the bog…"

He snorted humorlessly. "Didn't you ever wonder how it was I was healed? How I was well enough to be crawling around in a bog, of all places, when I was half-conscious the last time you saw me?"

…He didn't. No, Arthur never questioned, and he started at the realization. At the time—after so many hours of the image of Merlin laying defenseless on the ground as rocks feel between them playing over and over in his mind, of the feeling of his last desperate shout of his friend's name scratching at his throat, of the pain at hearing others tell him Merlin was dead and at seeing the evidence himself—he had been so relieved, so relieved, to see Merlin, not dead, breathing, alive (albeit stinky and filthy), that it didn't matter.

He had even hugged the idiot he was so relieved, but he never once questioned.

"It was Morgana's men who took me after I fell unconscious," Merlin said. "I woke up in her hovel—after she threw a bucket of water at me, of course—tied to the ceiling."

Arthur growled through bared teeth, while Gwen, who was obviously hearing this part of the story for the first time, gasped and sent a hand flying to cover her mouth, but Merlin, eyes detached and lost in another time and place, did not notice.

"We quarreled, well—" he folded his arms and made a soft ticking noise against the roof of his mouth "—quarreled is too tame a word." He shook his head, adding, "And then…she healed me. I didn't understand why, that is, until she summoned the Fomorroh."

"Fa-mor-ah?" Arthur repeated.

In response, Merlin bit his lip, turned his back to Arthur, and using his thumb to lower the collar of his shabby jacket and his fingertips to raise his neckerchief, his friend exposed a thin, small puckered scar slicing diagonally across the back of his neck.

"It is a Dark creature of the Old Religion," Merlin said, thrusting the fabric back down and turning back to Arthur's wide, horrified eyes, "One of the Darkest and most dangerous. It could devour willpower and consume everything a man once was, forcing him to forsake everything he stood for and everyone he loved so that he could follow its and its mistress's bidding without distraction and without resistance. You see, in the Old Times, it was used by the priestesses to…control the minds of their enemies."

"No," Arthur breathed.

Merlin's slate blue eyes shattered like glass as the self-loathing and guilt returned with a vengeance. "The last thing I remember before the snake was…inserted…was these words—words I'm sure will resound in my memory for years to come." He closed his eyes. "She said to me, The Fomorroh will suck the life force out of you. Everything that makes you Merlin will be gone. And in its place there will be just one thought. One thought that will grow until it's consumed you completely. One thought that will be your life's work. You will not be able to rest until it's done. And that one thought is simple. You must kill Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur and Gwen stood frozen at the chilling retelling, and a surge of compassion and concern rushed through the King, who was nonetheless shocked at this revelation and who could understand why this tortured Merlin so, given that he had had the power to prevent it all and given that he was, first and foremost, protector and friend rather than servant and sorcerer. His mind flicked through memories, searching for any indication at all that Merlin had been enchanted and had tried to kill him.

Looking back, he saw the smallest of signs—things that he would never have second-guessed in the past—but then the largest sign of them all…

The two whole days he spent missing "in the tavern."

How could he have missed this?

Merlin's pained eyes flew open, and interlocking his fingers in his hair, he repeated in a dangerously quiet voice, "I was ordered to kill you, Arthur. My King, my friend...Do you know how it feels to give your whole life and heart to someone and then be enchanted by her—" he spat disdainfully "—which is something that I could have avoided had I not been so weak—so that you were unable to remember why it all—all of the sacrifices, all of the work, all of the bonds forged, all of the laughs and bickering—mattered to you? To live with the knowledge that you turned against someone you cared about as though they were nothing more than a stranger and that you were denied the right to being yourself—that you couldn't fight it? It was depressing…to understand how Dark magic can twist even our most powerful stronghold and innermost sanctuary."

Arthur couldn't imagine, and the fact that Merlin could imagine in the first place and that such Dark magic was used on so good a man—it made his blood boil with rage.

Suddenly, as Merlin talked about how lucky Arthur was that he had been such a horrible assassin, how lucky Arthur was that Gwen had been able to knock him out to prevent him from making another attempt on his life, and how lucky Arthur was that Gwen and Gaius had watched over them both, Arthur was hit with the most startling revelation.

Merlin must have fought it.

He must have. Otherwise, he'd be dead. Having seen the ridiculous ease at which the secret sorcerer could toss men through the air, by all rights, he should have been dead.

And last time he checked, he wasn't dead.

Perhaps, because Morgana knew nothing of Merlin's magic, the mind-controlling enchantment was unable to reach to his powers and allow him to use them to aid the assassination attempts?

But, no, that made no sense. Morgana's words suggested that Merlin would be forced to use anything and everything to ensure that his "job" was completed, and judging by how obsessed Merlin became under the Fomorroh's power (just as Morgana had said) and judging by how long he was under its power before Gaius found a way to kill the Dark snake, surely he would have used magic?

In another circumstance, Arthur might have started laughing at the idea of him thinking about how magic might or might not have been used to kill him and why that made any difference…

But it did make a difference. A big difference.

And from the puzzled, soul-searching look on Gwen's face, Arthur could see she too had come to this conclusion.

Arthur, with his sapphire eyes soft with fondness for the selfless idiot before him, closed the distance between them and put a comforting hand on his friend's narrow shoulder, which effectively cut him off from blabbering about how Gaius had managed to subdue the creature long enough for him to be himself again.

"Merlin," he said, "there's nothing for you to be ashamed of. I know how loyal you are to me, and I know that you are not to blame for this. And you should know—" he gave his friend's shoulder a tight squeeze, an action which seemed to do more for Merlin than any words ever could "—that this is in no way unforgivable. What Morgana did to you—that is unforgivable."

The younger man, reading in between the words and studying his King's face, released a breath of relief (he had been more frightened of Arthur's rejection than either Gwen or the King realized), and slowly, a bright smile worked its way onto his face.

"You're just saying that because you're still alive," Merlin teased.

"No, I'm saying that because you're still with us," Arthur corrected. With a smirk, he joked, "I'm lucky to have you over the clumsy enchanted idiot who thought he could kill me with my own blunt ceremonial sword."

Giggling, Gwen, who was gleeful that Merlin had opened up to them more than she had hoped, said, "You were a bit of a goof, Merlin."

Merlin, pretending to be offended and, in light of Arthur's clear forgiveness and willingness to forget his less than noble actions, pushed his bulkier friend away, but the King, expecting the move, grabbed hold of Merlin and rubbed his knuckles into his head.

However, the servant, wily and agile, slipped out of Arthur's hold quickly and, scowling, rubbed his head.

"Promise me you won't dwell on this anymore, Merlin," Arthur said. "You and I both know how poisonous self-loathing is (1), and I hope you know that I don't think any less of you because of this."

Merlin blinked, and with a lopsided, almost secretive smile, he said, "I wouldn't worry, Arthur. I feel like a large burden has been lifted from my shoulders. Thank you. For understanding and for…listening." His eyes gleamed cheekily. "I know that that's something you've had trouble with in the past."

Rolling his eyes at Merlin's playful barb, he said, "No, thank you. I know how much courage that must've taken you to tell me."

Merlin shrugged modestly, and at that moment, a knock sounded from the corridor, making both servants in the room jump.

"My Lord, if you will, you are needed in the dungeons. The witch will be fully conscious soon."

Arthur frowned and looked at his love, whose kind eyes were mercilessly determined and were betraying only a margin of the unease she felt. Turning onto Merlin, he asked seriously, "Will you join us?"

The impish shine in Merlin's eyes had faded, leaving behind the wise deepness that Arthur had come to respect, and the King almost heard the message written there.

For you, anything.

"I will," Merlin said aloud.

With a curt nod, Arthur's face settled into his kingly mask of indifference, and he opened the door, saying, "Thank you. I was just on my way."

The guard bowed low and said, "Do you wish us to be preparing the pyre for the morrow, Sire?"

Behind him, he sensed Merlin stiffen and felt both his and Gwen's disbelieving, accusing eyes on his back (it appeared that they had not heard of Morgana's punishment), and making a split second decision, he said authoritatively, "No. I will be speaking to the captain of the guards shortly."

"Yes, my Lord," the nameless soldier said, giving another bow and turning to continue his patrol around the castle.

The moment the fellow turned around the corner, Merlin stated in a cool voice, "You've passed judgment."

It was not a question.

The King whirled to see Merlin, his stormy blue eyes blazing, straight-backed and uncompromising. Dangerous. Wise.

Recognizing the power swirling in those eyes, the King hesitated only fleetingly before he, being the stubborn man that he was, brushed the eerie feeling away and faced the man who never ceased to disobey and question him and the one man he should have took counsel with before ever making his ultimate decision.

"After what you've just told me, don't expect me to believe that you don't think that she deserves to be burnt," Arthur said bitterly.

"It's a cruel, cruel death," Merlin muttered.

"And befitting for a cruel, cruel monster."

The multifaceted eyes regarded him, and he said, "Think of Gwen and I, Arthur."

Not expecting that answer, the King blanched. "What?"

"Gwen and I both have faced the threat of execution by fire," Merlin explained quietly with a shudder. "You, on the other hand, have never faced that threat. Seeing it happen…hearing it happen…that's enough to make any man with a heart wary to deal such a punishment. But those who've experienced that threat and survived—they know that those few hours before you are to burn as you imagine what it would feel like to die that death…It is not something I would wish upon anyone. Not even Morgana."

Arthur winced, but before he could so much as think about Merlin's words, the servant continued, "I might hate what she's become, but there's still the memory of what she was to us. Even now, there's something of the old Morgana there that's deserving of mercy—no matter how small."

Merlin was right. It was wrong… so wrong. He had known this when he decided to allow the council members to walk all over him and convince him it was for the best. He had known this and yet he had let the pressure from his council overcome his morals and had let his guilty conscious make up excuses.

He was King, dammit. How could he have just let—?

"You're not your father, Arthur," Merlin added. "And this decision could alter that in the eyes of those who will see Morgana as a martyr."

"The witch is too dangerous to live, Merlin," Arthur, whose eyes widened in comprehension of the repercussions of killing Morgana, mumbled desperately. "Burning, beheading…what difference will it make when I have to kill her anyway? The ones who follow her will see none."

His friend shifted uneasily on his feet, and casting his eyes to the floor, he said, "It will make a difference to them—the sorcerers."

Arthur was convinced that Merlin was mad. Utterly, utterly mad.

"How?"

"You know as well as I do that beheading is a merciful death, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin exclaimed passionately, "and you should damn well know that people still live in fear of Uther's fires. The Druids, the other magic users—" Arthur immediately knew that Merlin included himself amongst those and felt a rush of pain at the knowledge that, in Merlin's eyes, condemning another man to the flames was the same as condemning him to the flames "—even those without magic have been affected by his paranoia—I'm sorry to say it in such crude terms because I know how you loved him, but this is the truth! To see you use the same methods would only harden their hearts and prevent them from seeing you for the King you are, and they will instead see Uther's shadow stalking the kingdom and curse you as they did him."

The ominous wisdom ringing through the words and singing through Merlin's eyes was hypnotizing, and Arthur and Gwen stared with open astonishment and simultaneously glanced to exchange a look as Merlin made a visible effort to compose himself.

Maybe he was mad, but then again, Merlin was utterly, utterly brilliant at the same time (2).

After such an incredible speech, all Arthur could manage to stutter out was, "Merlin, I—I was—"

Really intellectual and perfectly kingly, he knew.

The power in Merlin's eyes had abated by that point, and suddenly, there was now only compassion, support, and loyalty there. "I know you'll make the right choice, Arthur," he said, a small grin touching his lips. "You've already started to."

~…~

After Merlin and Gwen, who had taken his hand, given it a reassuring squeeze, and told him with her gentle doe-brown eyes that she, while believing Merlin's words wholeheartedly, would support him, both encouraged him to think on the subject of Morgana's fate before making any decision (he didn't have much to think about, seeing as Merlin's clear-sightedness and ability to see things others did not violently swayed him) and after Merlin assured him that Morgana had recently been drugged and would not be able to use her powers, they finally left Arthur's chambers together to visit the witch in the dungeons.

They walked at a brisk pace and in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Arthur couldn't speak for the other two, but he, feeling dread all the while, was spending this time adjusting the impassive mask he would use when speaking to Morgana and was carefully composing his questions about 'Emrys,' who, despite Arthur's knowledge that Emrys was Merlin, was still a complex enigma that would surely begin to unravel—if he was intuitive and insightful enough to ask the right questions and evaluate her less-than-willing answers and the hidden details in those answers correctly, that is.

Indeed, he was so deep in thought that he was hardly aware of his surroundings and was only brought back into reality when Gwen broke the silence by calling, "Merlin?"

The younger man flinched suddenly at his name, and his kaleidoscopic eyes snapped to hers. "Hm?"

Brow furrowed, she said, "You know—well, I was just thinking…and you never did tell us how you rid yourself of the Fomorroh."

Arthur watched Merlin's face cloud with a subtle trace of suspicion and panic before he smiled wryly and responded in a dismissive voice, "I told you that the Mother Beast needed to be destroyed so that the head would no longer grow back."

"Yes, but I wanted to know…who destroyed the Mother Beast?"

Merlin pursed his lips, and while he looked at Arthur from his peripheral vision, he said carefully, "Someone who had Camelot's best interests at heart. An old friend of Gaius."

Arthur's eyes narrowed imperceptibly at his detection of the half-truth, but catching the disquiet in Merlin's eyes and reevaluating the stiff, falsely emotionless tone in which he specifically said 'an old friend of Gaius…'

Hell no! Surely not!

"The old sorcerer!" Arthur, now officially sick of trying to figure what part of Merlin's half-truths were truly true, exclaimed both in accusation and in intense confusion.

His mind rejected the idea and yet embraced it at the same time. He might have thought Merlin himself would have gone after the Dark snake, and that was enough to make him believe that that was the lie. But, then again, there was some corner of his mind nudging him at him, teasing him…

If it all was true, as he was beginning to think, he couldn't deny that he didn't like it. True, though the King had just come to the realization that the senile man had saved Guinevere and had tried to save his father, it did not in any way take the sting away and brought back some old grudges and prejudices that he was horribly ashamed to possess, most especially in light of his discovery of Merlin's own magic.

Then again, perhaps he was justified, in the smallest of ways. He hadn't forgotten those insults, and those were definitely over the line.

A brief flash of pain and resigned understanding traveled through Merlin's eyes, and he jerked a nod.

"You can't be serious," Arthur deadpanned.

Gwen, distracting him from his complex annoyance, tugged at his sleeve and whispered excitedly into his ear, "Arthur, I think he's t—"

Unfortunately, Arthur did not hear the rest of Gwen's statement because Merlin had stopped abruptly and interrupted with a mutter, "We're here."

Camelot's King surveyed the thick dungeon door with a mixture of contempt and unease, and after taking a deep breath, pursing his lips, and drawing himself to his full height, he turned and hissed, "Don't think you're off the hook, Merlin."

The servant grinned impishly at him. "Wouldn't dream of it, Sire."

Narrowing his eyes at the rather mocking use of his title and ignoring the three guards' looks of disapproval, Arthur gave Merlin a look that very clearly warned him to watch his tongue and felt Gwen's hand slip into his.

"Try not to get her riled, Merlin, or I might regret bringing you along."

Merlin chuckled, and though his eyes shone playfully, there was an undercurrent of something far darker there. "Don't count on it, Arthur. She'll probably get riled the moment we walk in."

"Too true," Arthur agreed with a small smirk. "Well," he exhaled, "let's get this over with."

~…~

Morgana had just regained consciousness when the threesome entered, and lingering in the shadows for a moment, Arthur briefly assessed her seemingly relaxed mood with a frown and couldn't contain a wince at the sight of the heavy shadows under her eyes, which, in the light of the cell, made her look like a she-devil from hell, and her bandage-wrapped side, which sported an injury that Merlin himself had cared for.

Stepping forward with the others, Arthur dismissed the guards, and Morgana stood regally to meet him.

As her pale green eyes passed over him and Gwen, who cringed at his side, with equal levels of amused disdain and with that irritating smirk of hers plastered on her lips, Arthur noticed the eyes, when they latched onto Merlin, fill with a frigid, relentless hatred so strong and powerful, he and Gwen, sensing the impossible level of hostility emitting between the two, shuddered.

It shocked him at how much pure loathing really existed there, but Merlin himself, not intimidated in the slightest, met Morgana's glare coolly as he moved to stand at Arthur's right before the cell door.

But it shocked him even more when it was Morgana who broke eye contact and focused again on Arthur, who had been expecting her to speak first, and he waited with his impassive mask fixed.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure, Arthur?" Morgana said with mock-politeness. "Surely not even the condemned witch deserves the honor of standing in your pet servants' presence, let alone yours."

The King bristled at the insults directed at Gwen and Merlin, but knowing full well that she wanted to get under his skin and make him lose his temper, he cooled his boiling rage and instead stated, "You've heard."

Rolling her eyes sarcastically, she spat, "Your guards already told me with excessive joy about it, thank you. I apologize for your wasted your trip."

Her spiteful attitude hardened Arthur's heart, but in her eyes, from which shone a smug amusement, there was a different story. Merlin, who had cocked his head slightly at her and had narrowed his blazing eyes, must have thought similarly.

Suspicious, Arthur commented, "You don't sound necessarily concerned about your approaching execution, Morgana."

A secretive smirk tweaked at her lips, and she pouted, "Come now, Arthur. You surely can't believe I can escape, not after the potion that the bastard at your side so lovingly gave me suppressed my magic."

"You're welcome," Merlin interceded cheekily.

Rage colored her features, and she hissed murderously, "But I forget. You do seem to have a certain talent for these things, don't you, Merlin?"

"He lives with Gaius, Morgana," Arthur reminded her, sensing Merlin stiffen beside him. "Of course he does."

A cruel smile suddenly spread across her face, "Oh, naughty, naughty, Merlin," she chided. "Keeping secrets from your master, are you?"

The servant sighed and tossed Arthur, whose brow pinched together, a wincing 'didn't-I-tell-you?' look. Even with the guilt flickering across Merlin's eyes, Arthur could see how grateful he was that he had prepared Arthur for this.

"I have no secrets I'm not unwilling to share with him, Morgana," Merlin said truthfully. "Not anymore."

"Then what is it you're afraid of, Merlin?" she asked mockingly. "Afraid that he'll turn you away when he learns that it was your hand that ultimately forced mine?"

With a terrifying anger burning in Merlin's eyes, he growled, "Don't you dare put the blame on me for the path you decided upon. You made it clear where you stood in this war far before it was ever necessary for me to act against you." He stepped forward threateningly and vowed to her, "Hell's fires would freeze over before I let you or anyone harm Camelot."

Morgana's eyes became slits, and tilting her chin up proudly, she snickered, "Such noble words for a mere, misguided boy who would resort to the coward's murder to get what he wanted."

Gwen gasped beside Arthur, who paled himself as he finally caught on to what it was Morgana and Merlin were talking about.

Poison. It was known as the coward's way. Tricks, deception—poison was no honorable way to kill an enemy. And Merlin had poisoned Morgana.

When Arthur, stunned to the core and unsure how to feel, turned to Merlin, his eyes were shut tight, but after a heartbeat, they, shining with righteousness and lingering pain, flew open to glare heatedly at the witch.

This was Merlin, and seeing in his eyes the memory of how much it hurt him to poison her and the memory of how desperate the situation had been that had forced him to use such methods…

It was enough to remind Arthur. It was enough to prove that, despite the less than honorable actions, Merlin's intentions for those actions—actions that were very clearly done in the best interests of Camelot—were honorable…as they always were.

His actions had saved the city—he knew.

And the pity and pain he knew Merlin still felt...that was more proof of how different he and Morgana were.

"Oh, yes, Gwen," Morgana said cheerfully. "Does it surprise you that your precious Merlin is not as innocent and idiotic as you would like to believe?"

"Enough, Morgana!" Arthur exploded furiously. "Your taunts are unwarranted, and I honestly couldn't give a damn about your grudges against Merlin when I know how good a man he is and when I, even though I can't say he's ever told me about poisoning you and even though I'm quite sure there's more he hasn't told me—I trust him. But you? I could kick you further than I could ever trust you," he hissed.

"Now, quit insulting my manservant—that's my job—and tell me what you have planned because I know you—gods help me—I know you, and I know that you wouldn't be this confident on the eve of your death unless there was something you have planned."

While Merlin sucked in a breath of awe at his King's words and latched large, thankful blue eyes onto him, Morgana's eyes widened in disbelief before freezing into shards of pale ice. "I, my dear brother?" she asked innocently. "I am powerless, I am injured…and I already told you that I have nothing planned."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Please," Morgana scoffed, "It's not a question of what I have planned but a question of what Fate has planned for me." She grabbed the bars of the cell with dirty hands and placed her face between them. "And I'm sorry to inform you, son of Uther, that I am not destined to die by your hand."

"By Emrys', then, my Lady?" Gwen asked straight-facedly.

Merlin seemed to have a sudden coughing fit, but it went unnoticed as Morgana's face contorted with violent wrath, and baring her teeth like a wolf, she snarled, "Do not mention that name to me!"

Taking a deep breath, she added, her voice shaking with the passion of her loathing, "He's my enemy. No more. No less."

Arthur had lived with this woman for over a decade, and he knew full well when she was lying and when she was withholding information for the sake of her pride.

Here, it was both.

Beside him, Merlin was tense with anxiety, and since the moment Gwen spoke his Druidic name his eyes had flickered between the lot of them, but at Morgana's most recent words, he stared at her with a hint of dark amusement in his impish eyes.

"I want to know why you think that this man, whoever he is, would save me," Arthur said, watching Merlin start from the corner of his eye. "You said so—in the throne room."

The witch blinked at him incredulously and then jeered, "As if you don't already know."

"Um…no, I really don't."

Merlin, of course, snorted at the King's tone of voice, which somehow increased his confidence tenfold.

"Is this really why you came down here? Do you think me a fool?" Morgana demanded. "He's stalked me, thwarted me at every turn—managed to get under my skin even more so than Merlin in the past year alone—a sorcerer working in the name of Camelot? He must be yours."

"You've seen him?" Gwen asked, a tinge of panic coloring her tone.

Morgana, closing her eyes—that didn't fool Arthur, who saw the flash of fear in her pale eyes—growled under her breath, and said sarcastically, "Of course I've seen him, Guinevere. I would like to think I know the face of the man I've sworn to kill."

The King and his lover exchanged a brief look of confusion and worry as Merlin turned his face "inconspicuously" into the shadows.

"Though I'm curious to see if age'll get to him before I do," Morgana commented dryly. "That'd be a pity. I do so look forward to killing him."

Arthur froze and inhaled sharply, the mechanics of the lock clicking into their proper places, all the puzzle pieces fitting exactly right…

"You don't mean," the King said slowly as he struggled to compose himself. "That this Emrys is the ridiculously long-bearded, robed old man?"

"And you told me you've never met him before," Morgana simpered. "He did come to court once, a year ago, Arthur, or don't you remember?"

Ignoring her, he said to himself, "He—he killed my father."

Merlin had killed his father.

But, remembering Gaius' words, Merlin had also tried to heal his father.

Dammit all.

Merlin cringed regretfully, but Morgana, who seemed to think it joyous news, released a clear, bell-like laugh that echoed mockingly throughout the drafty dungeons.

"Oh, that's too perfect!" Morgana cried, laughing. "Ha! The one time I'm one step ahead of him…" She sighed blissfully. "I bet you even turned against him," she sniggered. At the look on his face, she started to laugh even harder.

Arthur, floundering for words, felt regret crash upon him with the force of a waterfall, and it took every ounce of willpower not to let it show on his face. It took even more than that not to turn to Merlin and beg for his forgiveness.

He had viciously denounced magic to the very friend who had magic and had only ever tried to help and to prove to him that there was such a thing as good magic, the only friend he had…the one that, despite his cruelty and the words that must've stabbed him like daggers, stayed by his side. Always.

"'One step ahead of him?'" Merlin quoted angrily, his eyes burning with a crazed, mad hope.

Arthur, slow on the uptake, scrunched his brow, but Gwen gasped and yelled, "So it was you! Uther's death was your doing!"

The King's heart faltered, and Morgana, looking miffed at her victory being spoilt, said carelessly, "Oops. Seems I've been compromised. In the end though…" she smirked evilly. "I think I like the idea of my dear brother finally knowing that it was his sister who killed our father."

Red tinged his vision, and with pain for Merlin and for his father, he roared wordlessly at her and lunged for her, only to be held back by Merlin himself, whose grey-blue eyes shared his anger at the injustice and warned him not to do anything rash.

Smiling gleefully at Arthur's reaction, the witch beckoned him with a slender finger. "Word to the wise, Arthur," she whispered cockily. "Watch for traitors. Without Agravaine's help, the amulet that reversed the effects of Emrys' healing spell would never have gotten around Uther's neck."

"Are you really that wicked (3) to suggest that Arthur had anything to do with his father's death?" Gwen asked in a pained voice as the two men beside her growled defensively.

Morgana, a smirk forming at the corner of her lips, slid her eyes slyly away from the threesome, and suddenly, she, having caught sight of something, frowned.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur asked when she pried herself from the bars and drifted over to the corner of the cell, where she bent over to pick up an unknown object.

"Well, well, well," Morgana said mirthfully. "What d'you know?"

She stood, and before Arthur could demand that she hand over whatever it was in her hand, she brandished said object before Gwen and sneered, "Recognize this, sweet Guinevere?"

It was a bracelet.

While Arthur and Merlin, both bemused, exchanged a look, Gwen's eyes, filling with tears, widened, and choking back a sob, she winced violently and backed herself away.

"No," she whispered, her brown eyes tortured and filled to the brim with pain.

"What are you doing to her?" Merlin demanded anxiously.

Morgana, twirling the bracelet in her fingers, shrugged casually. Her eyes glinted devilishly as she reveled in Gwen's pain. "Nothing. Just bringing some bad memories to the surface, it appears."

"With a bracelet?" Arthur asked while Merlin studied the thin band of silver.

"Not just any bracelet," Morgana said, her greedy eyes fixated on Gwen, who was shaking. "Why don't you tell Arthur who gave it to you, Gwen?" she cooed.

"L—Lancelot. It…I threw it off here. I—I—"

Both Merlin and Arthur stiffened, and after Merlin's eyes squinted with renewed effort at the band, the servant cried out and, moving so fast that not one of them had time to react, snatched the bracelet directly from Morgana's fingers.

"Marks of the Old Religion," Merlin gasped as he tossed it to Arthur, who was numb with the amount of information that had just been revealed to him and who caught it without thinking. Rounding on Morgana, he accused, "You enchanted her!"

The witch arrogantly tossed her matted hair over shoulder, and smirking, she said, "It's a shame that all my hard work's gone to waste." Facing Gwen again, she added, "Arthur might have made up with you, wench, and that bracelet might have only temporarily put the two of you at odds, but I hope you'll remember that, for as long as I live, I'll do anything to keep you off my throne."

Anger flashed through Gwen's eyes, and with tears building up and spilling over, his sweet Guinevere flung herself at Morgana and slapped her with all her might.

Stumbling backwards, Gwen nearly collapsed, but after Merlin, looking as suitably impressed as Arthur felt, steadied her, she spat, "You bitch."

Rubbing her stinging cheek, Morgana glared at Gwen violently, and Merlin discreetly bumped shoulders with Arthur and muttered, "That's enough, isn't it?"

The King, tucking the bracelet into his pocket, nodded in agreement and took up a trembling Guinevere into his arms, and after kissing her gently on the forehead and trying to block the whirling thoughts in his mind from breaking his concentration on the here-and-now, he turned vehement sapphire eyes to ice green and said with a voice that hardly seemed to belong to him, "For your crimes against Camelot, for turning against those who once loved you, and for abusing them in the cruelest of ways, not only do I sentence you to death, Morgana Pendragon, but from this day forward, I disown you and promise to fight against you and the Dark magic you stand for...until the day breath leaves my body."

Unable to look at her a second longer and with pain and horror and wretchedness tearing him apart from the inside, Arthur stalked out of the dungeons with Merlin at his heels and Gwen against his arm.

Morgana's parting words, as binding as his own and thick with that goddam arrogant amusement, rang ominously behind him. "Until next time, Arthur Pendragon."

~…~

The King was hardly aware of his return to the upper levels of the castle until Merlin gently took hold of his arm in order to make him halt and said to the guards, "The King wishes that you double the guard."

Blinking away his mind-numbing thoughts, he flickered his surprised yet grateful gaze to his clever friend, and he reinforced the order with, "Yes. We have reason to believe she will make an escape attempt. Make sure she's drugged, and allow no visitors. I'll speak to Gaius about increasing the dosage."

The two guards remaining (the others must have already returned to their posts in the dungeons) saluted and bowed their heads, and turning in unison, they went off to carry their orders.

Leaving Arthur alone with Gwen and Merlin.

At this point, everything that Arthur had learned, which was more than he had ever imagined, rushed into the forefront of his mind, and rubbing his throbbing head with both hands and fighting away the threatening breakdown that was sure to come, he backed himself into the nearest wall and slid down it.

"Arthur?" Merlin, who crouched beside him, asked in concern.

"Merlin, Gwen, everything—I can't believe…" Arthur stuttered. "I was—"

The servant, ruffling his tousled raven hair and shushing him, said gently, "There's a lot you need to think about, Arthur, I know, and I know there's a lot the three of us need to talk about. You and Gwen go rest. Go sort out your thoughts, and when the two of you are ready to talk to me, to each other, we'll face it together."

Looking up into Merlin's supportive, protective, kindhearted blue eyes, Arthur, conflicted and confused amongst a storm of revelations, decided unanimously that 'together' was the most beautiful word in the world.

With a weak smile, the King took Gwen's hand, gripped Merlin's shoulder with his other, and said, his eyes full of fond gratitude, "Together, then."

Merlin's responding smile was all he needed to pick himself up again (4) and find the courage to confront everything that he had learned.

(1) Reference to a line in my fic PMMP

(2) Reference to a few lines in my fic SMN

(3) Inspired by the musical Wicked - just because I can't seem to get its soundtrack out of my head. ;)

(4) Inspired by a line in Batman Begins, which I only just saw for the first time. I always admired the Dark Knight, but paired with this...I'm officially in love with these movies. Gary Oldman just rocks. No questions asked.

AN: Long chapter, but I hope you've liked it. :) I really should've gone to bed hours ago (I have to lifeguard early tomorrow)... Oops. :P And for the mistakes, I'm sorry.

Forgive me if Part III takes a little while. I have an online test to take if I want to be in Chem 1 next year, and I have decided to try to focus myself on a new chapter Heart of Gold afterwards. Thank you, everyone, for your support and patience. *hugs all around*

Oz out.