A/N- Sorry it's been so long! I realize most of you will have probably stopped reading this, but that's okay! Better to update later than never!

Anyway, again, sorry for being so long. I started high school this year, and it's a lot more than I anticipated. Lost motivation for a lot of things. Sadly, fic writing was one. But it's okay! Because I'm back!

Anyway, on with the story!

Benugan!

Merlin awoke slowly. His head was pounding, and dully, he wondered if he had been at the tavern again. It was a strange thought, flitting through one end of his mind and out the other almost as quick as it had come. Because after all, why would he not be able to move his limbs if he was just passed out in his bed? And where was Gaius, yelling at him to get up?

…Wait.

He couldn't move…?

Alarm bells went off in the warlock's mind. His head jolted up and he realized a second thing- he hadn't been lying, but sitting up. Blinking his eyes open slowly, he realized that it was dark- too dark to be anyplace with a window. The night never was so dark that he was lost to his senses, leaving him helpless in such a way. A soft groan fell from his lips. No matter how many times he strained his eyes and searched for something in the abyss, he could find nothing, hackles raising as he became aware of a terrible sickness staining in the air.

It was tangible, even there was no smell, no wind. Other… things had happened in here, and none of it had turned out good. Death lingered on his tongue, the back of his throat sticky with the bloodshed. Merlin could almost hear agonized screams- of who, he didn't know, and he didn't really care to find out, either.

It was unclear how much time passed before there was a sliver of light, a grating sound coming from one side of the room. Craning his head, the young man could now make out the line of a door. Torches were lit outside, and the blinding light was swallowed up as a shadow slipped into the room.

When his voice came, it was rasping and dry, and he had to pause, swallow, and try again. "Who's there? Where am I? What do you want?"

Every bit of his being screamed wrong when the door shuddered closed and another voice answered his own.

"You sure know how to ask questions at a bad time, don't you, Merlin?"

It was terrible. Not just one voice, but two blending into one. One was lyrical, musical, laughing and sweet. It sounded as though from a playful angel, teasing him. Singing, too. But that wasn't just it.

Underneath was a rougher voice. A grave, terrible one, one angry with grief and pain. It was almost rasping. There was such a difference between the two that Merlin found himself cringing from the crude combination. He didn't want to hear it again.

"Who are you?" he repeated, teeth gritted. He needed to know.

"You don't recognize me? Oh, dear, dear Merlin. This is the second time you've not realized who I am. Goleuwch y garreg."

A flash of gold. Suddenly, the stone on his wrist began to glow bright, the blue lighting more than he would have thought. But that wasn't all. In addition to his bracelet shining, more blue light spilled from somewhere in the room. His eyes burned until they adjusted. Merlin felt like he was going to faint when he saw what it was.

Another moon glowing bright and pulsing in time with his own. And, it was on a necklace.

"Know who it is now?"

His words caught in his throat. Hands beginning to shake, the warlock's eyes trailed up, landing on a face he had fallen for and a face he had forgotten. It was her. But… At the same time, she wasn't. A section of her obsidian hair had been chopped short to her shoulder, ragged at the edges, and a mouse brown. Tanned skin bled into the pale of the rest of her face, over one eye and taking up a large part of her left side. On that side, her eye was no longer emerald and gold- earth replaced it, the barest of green around the iris making it technically hazel. A portion of her lips were slightly pink, chapped, and thin; it created a sharp contrast to the rest of her lips, which were blood red and invitingly soft looking. Merlin felt his chest began to heave. What the hell had happened to her?

Those lips curled up into a terrible smirk. "Aw, poor Merlin. Such a great warlock, and yet you can't tell when someone is wearing a glamour. How pitiful."

It took a long moment for his mind to catch up. When it did, he lurched forward, fingers digging into the wood of the chair that he was held to by chains.

"Anastazia?!"

The smirk grew even wider.

Anastazia began to walk around him. Once she was behind his back, his eyes glowed gold, trying to break from the chains. The only thing he succeeded in doing was tightening and making him gasp. "Oh, silly little Merlin," the woman purred, touching his shoulder with light fingertips. The two voices grated against each other. "You can't get out of those. Any sort of magic other than my own will only make it harder to get out of. It's best if you just stay still."

The glow of the stones faded away, and with another few words, torches sprang to life along the walls. Merlin blinked harshly, trying to rid his gaze of the sudden black spots dancing in his vision. The sorceress made her way around, and he could see now that the dress she wore was no longer the one he had given her for the ball. Now, she was in a simple dress, a peasant's, the fabric rough but firm. He, however, was still in the fancy apparel. It itched, and coupled with the chains, he hated it.

"…Stazia… What happened?" His voice carried a heaviness, a resignation that would have cut deeply. The woman simply scoffed.

"What happened? You have the nerve to ask me what happened? Is it really so hard for you to see?" Her jaw tightened. "Datgelu i mi." Her eyes melted. And, so did her skin. The pale colors became as though liquid, dripping off to reveal the tan that the part of her face was. Long black locks were slashed at the shoulder, what stayed stained brown and what left dissolving into dust before they hit the ground. Red bled from her lips and dripped off her chin, the green of her right eye cracking and splintering until the brown as the other seeped through. Her frame became gaunt and hardly filled the dress, arms thin and collarbone sticking out in stark relief from the taut of her skin. She wasn't ugly, still actually very quite beautiful, but with the hallows and dips and recessed parts of her body telling of little food or overexerting too often, she was suddenly thrown as a corpse come back to life with fresh flesh.

She laughed, a rough, grieved, hurt sound. The musical note was gone leaving just this voice. "You look scared, Merlin. You shouldn't be. It was simply a glamor. Staia not the one who's going to kill you. But I am."

Merlin then recognized exactly who it was. He felt as though he was going to be sick. It was absolutely clear who she was, and why she was doing this, and what this whole ploy had been for. All the blood drained from his face. No… he thought to himself, disbelieving, overcome with the guilt. Not… It can't… "…Can't be…" He didn't notice as the last part of his thought was spoken aloud.

"It can be, and it is," the woman assured, agony flashing in her eyes, fueling the abhorrence and revenge that glittered there.

"It's me, Merlin. Anastazia, or as you knew me, Ana. Will's little sister."

A/N- Yep!

Please review!

~L~