A/N: Thanks to the people who have reviewed, it means a great deal! If you've been reading but not reviewing, I beg of you - please take one minute out of your life to drop me a note so I'll know how I'm doing. It would be SO greatly appreciated! :)

A big thanks to JNottle, Luiz4200, FireChildSlytherin5, darkmist11, Catindahat, Sarcasm-the Lowest Form of Wit, FireSenshi2, Xanthiae, grace, cflat, Miles333, Xavier, TheLastArchon, genderless-but straight, Sarah James, AuroraKnight, and Sapphire Warrioress for reviewing,you guys are more than astounding! :)

Here's chapter six, and PLEASE review! :)


The Most Deadly Alliance

Chapter Six

She appears to him in another dream.

"I grow tired of this," Voldemort states, the only indication of his annoyance in the fierce fire that burns in his soulless red eyes. "How much preparation does it take to render one boy defenseless?"

Nimueh smirks, her dream-self utterly confident and poised. "I might ask you the same question, Lord Voldemort." His eyes narrow suspiciously as she embellishes on her comment. "After all, you have been trying to defeat this Potter child for fifteen years. I believe two days is not too much time to ask me to prepare."

His eyes flash cruelly, dangerously. "I demand you bring me to Camelot this instant, Nimueh! I have no more patience to wait for the boy to be delivered."

She frowns indulgently upon him, as if he is a small child being reprimanded for wanting candy. "You are not a priestess of the Old Religion," she says smoothly, her eyes cold and calculating. "You do not know the processes one must go through in order to turn a wizard's - even a relatively weak one's - powers against him." Her perfectly formed lips slowly curl into a smile. "Besides," she says, "you have some sort of connection with the boy, am I correct? He can feel your anger, feel your presence, and sometimes even see what you see and invade your dreams as I am now doing?"

Voldemort dips his head slightly, confirming.

"Do you not think, My Lord, that this Harry Potter will not sense your presence when you arrive in Camelot? They know they are here for a reason, but they do not yet know the cause, and whether the intent of them being sent here was good or bad. Right now, their only concern is Uther Pendragon-" (she spat the king's name like poison) "-and what he will do to them if he finds out they have magic. They have asked Merlin to help them find a way back to your time. The boy is still young and does not know great things like he is meant to later on in life. It will take him quite a while to even begin to find what he is looking for. Why not be patient and lull the silly children into a false sense of security? That way, when you do arrive, and it is our turn to strike, we will have even more of an advantage."

Voldemort sniffs disdainfully. "Nimueh, do not try and fool me. You only wish to play with them, a foolish game of Cat and Mouse."

Nimueh allows a small grin to light up her eyes. "Perhaps," she says, "but you are in no position to make demands. I am only in your dreams, remember? I am Nimueh, great priestess of the Old Religion; it is I who hold the power of time in my hands." She levels him with a steady glare. "It is I who decides when you shall arrive in Camelot, Lord Voldemort. And you would do well to remember that you are not the only powerful sorcerer to ever live. There may have been someone, in a time long before your own, whose powers were much greater than your own. Pride may yet be your downfall...Tom Riddle."

She vanishes, leaving Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvalo Riddle, in a fit of rage.


Merlin made an extra effort to rise early and arrive on time to work the next morning. Having stayed up so late talking with his new friends, he was extremely exhausted, but was determined to work past it and show Arthur that he was not just a lazy, good for nothing servant. He was still rather angry about the spat with the prince yesterday, but was beginning to realize that perhaps Arthur's words weren't exactly an accurate portrayal of his true feelings. After all, Arthur and Merlin had been through so much together, and doing so much for one another, Merlin wasn't sure if anyone could experience so much and walk away with the same platonic relationship that they started out with.

He remembered that Arthur had mentioned something about propriety when they had spoken yesterday, and Merlin felt that this lay at the heart of the problem. As a prince, Arthur was expected to do so much - and if he had any clue what Merlin was expecting him to do someday, what with his destiny of becoming the greatest king Camelot has ever known - he would probably be even more uptight. Often, the prince came off as a prat, but Merlin knew that most of the time, the blatant disregard for Merlin's feelings was due more to stress than anything else. Still, to say outright, with no qualms, that there is no way that they could ever be friends because propriety wouldn't allow it? If that were true, maybe Merlin wouldn't have been so bothered by it. But it was a load of lies!

Uther's ward, Morgana, was the best of friends with her handmaiden, Gwen. The two girls were very close and Morgana made a point to openly share that she was not ashamed of being close to her servant, and criticized anyone who insisted upon calling her out on it. Morgana did not allow propriety to stand in the way of her friendship with Gwen. She would not allow it.

What hurt the most about Arthur's words, however, is that he really wasn't sure if he was just saying that, or if that was how Arthur really felt. Arthur could be difficult to read at times, as he rarely allowed his emotions to show in any degree. He was a man of action, a fighter, not a man of words, of feelings. Merlin, for a reason that he could not even figure out for himself, had thought that the two of them had...something. He had thought that Arthur cared for him as a friend, if just a bit. He didn't expect Arthur to treat him like an equal, even when they were alone, but for Arthur to so callously scoff at the mere prospect of being friends with Merlin hurt.

Merlin sighed as he reached Arthur's chambers. Trying to figure out the prince was more difficult that mastering any spell he'd ever tried. Although he may seem shallow and obnoxious on the outside, Merlin knew that he really was a deep person, with feelings that reached beyond the realm of comfort, past the zone of just "happy" and "sad." Arthur was a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and one of the easiest ways to lighten the burden was to push it all on Merlin, taking his frustration out on the only source that wouldn't - couldn't - fight back. If only he understood the extent of the world that also rested on Merlin's shoulders. Maybe then he would lay off a bit, and be a little less reluctant to admit, if only to himself, that Merlin was indeed a friend.

Merlin had talked to Hermione, Ron, and Harry for a while about the situation with Arthur for a while last night, and he was grateful that his friends were so understanding. Harry had told him about how he had grown up like a servant to his aunt and uncle, being forced to live in a little room beneath the stairs, always getting pushed aside and without any real friends. He had not known that he had magic until he was eleven years old, but ever since then, when he was out in the world of the non-magical people - the Muggles, if Merlin was remembering the term correctly - he had to hide his magic. The consequences were not nearly as extreme as Merlin's would be if he were revealed, but at least he did understand to a degree.

He thought about knocking on the prince's door, but decided that that would be taking this tactic a little too far. After all, if he started treating Arthur like the prince everyone else did, who would keep His Royal Highness from being His Royal Pratness? No, Merlin decided, he would barge in as usual.

Arthur was still asleep, which was a bit of a surprise. Many times, Merlin was late, and the prince had already woken up. Striding to the window, Merlin pulled back the curtains and let fresh, blinding sunlight stream into Arthur's chambers. "Good morning, Sire!" he chirped, perhaps a bit too upbeat at the prospect of actually getting to wake Arthur up for once - normally it was making up excuses in a feeble attempt to explain why he was late and hadn't been in time to wake the prince up.

Arthur grumbled slightly and sat up, his eyes widening considerably when he saw that Merlin was at work on time. "Merlin? What are you doing here?" he asked, and Merlin gave a too-innocent glance at his master over his shoulder.

"I believe I'm doing my job, Sire. And I believe you should get out of bed so that you can get ready to do yours."

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he carefully considered his servant, but Merlin seemed oblivious to his scrutiny. A tug of friendship, of brotherly affection for the boy pulled lightly at his heart, and he brushed it aside, even as a pang of guilt quickly proceeded to take its place as he remembered how he had treated Merlin the day before. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to his servant, but he realized that Merlin was out of the room, getting his breakfast. Arthur sighed, wondering how he had made such a mess of things.


Morgana was striding down the hall, on her way to nowhere in particular, when she saw the three strangers standing against the wall, talking quietly amongst themselves. The dark-haired one, the one who had been touched by magic, glanced up and their eyes met. His eyes, she saw clearly for the first time, were a striking green behind the glass of the spectacles he wore. She felt something, some sort of shock, start in her brain and slowly travel down her spine. He looked away after a few seconds, but the feeling still lingered. Something was there, she knew it instantly. Some sort of connection existed between her and the boy named Potter. And she had to find out more. Not only that, but he intrigued her for some unbeknownst reason.

She stopped at the cluster of the three guests, smiling as disarmingly as possible, but her heart was beating madly when she saw how close she was to Harry. She wondered if he could feel it too. His friend, the red-haired boy, was staring openly at her, and his friend, the rather average-looking girl whom she had noticed paid a lot of attention to Arthur's servant Merlin, was glaring at him as if a bit annoyed. "Hello," Morgana said pleasantly.

"Er...hi," the dark-haired boy said, and his voice was so much clearer than she expected.

"I do not believe I have properly introduced myself," Morgana began, being sure to shift her gaze to meet the eyes of all three of them and not focus every ounce of her attention on Harry alone. Her eyes were drawn to that scar...what could have caused something like that? Dark magic, Gaius had said. "I am the Lady Morgana."

"Ronald Weasley," the red one said with a flourish, slowly stretching as if trying to show off his physique - if that was what one could call it.

The girl rolled her eyes at her friend, and Morgana couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between the two. She turned her gaze to Morgana's and eyed her suspiciously, although Morgana could not fathom why. "Hermione Granger," she said coldly.

Morgana nodded slightly, her confidence faltering a bit. Why did this girl seem to be so put off by her presence.

Then he spoke, and Morgana forgot about her. "Harry. Harry Potter."

Morgana smiled, and he returned the gesture slowly. "It is very nice to meet you all," she said sincerely, her eyes lingering on Harry. The closer she got to him, the fiercer the connection grew. She could not tell by his facial expression whether he was sharing the experience, but the desire to be near him was so strong for her that she had force herself to move on. "I am glad that you have found refuge from the magical threat inside the great walls of Camelot."

"Me too," Ron said wistfully, gazing at her as if she were some sort of goddess. Although used to men following her with their eyes because of her beauty, Morgana found this particular boy a bit unnerving and decided it was time to move on. "Good day." She looked once more at Harry. "I hope to see you again in the near future."

Harry nodded, not sure if her comment was meant for them all, or just at him. "Right," he said nervously.

She walked away.


Ron stared at Hermione, aghast. "Why were you so rude to her? That was totally uncalled for!"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, right, like the way that you are being so civil to Merlin? I swear, Ron, you can talk to anyone you want, but if I happen to even glance at a boy that I might be interested in, you get your knickers wound up so tight an anti-wedgie counter curse couldn't get them straight again!"

Ron gaped as if astounded by her audacity. "You're not serious?" he breathed. "You can bloody well talk to whoever you bloody well please! Excuse me for trying to protect you from going wonky like you did with Lockhart our second year. You were so enamored with him you walked around in a bloody daze!"

Harry tried to step in. "Ron-"

Ron ignored him. "We all know you think Merlin is great, Hermione, and you have Arthur wrapped around your finger. For some reason, the boys in this century can't seem to stay away from you."

"And that bothers you?" Hermione shrieked in a high-pitched whisper. "That someone is actually paying me a little attention? Honestly, Ronald, do you really think I want Prince Arthur flirting with me? He is a prat! And as for Merlin, how I feel is really none of your business."

"You do realize that we are centuries in the past, right?" Ron hissed, barely audible as he didn't want anyone to hear this part of their conversation. "Nothing can happen between the two of you!"

Hermione huffed impatiently. "Ron, I am not in love with Merlin. In fact, you and Harry should be feeling the exact same way about him that I feel right now!"

Even Harry did a double take when he heard her words, momentarily forgetting about trying to keep peace.

"Oh, yeah," Ron said sarcastically. "I think I'll head right on over to Merlin's room and start snogging him right now!"

Harry's eyes went wide. "Uh, Ron," he said.

Ron looked up. "What?" he snapped. Harry inclined his head and Ron turned around.

There stood Prince Arthur, looking confused but also rather annoyed. "Anything I need to know about?" he asked too pleasantly, looking at Ron as if his head weren't quite on straight.

"Er...depends," Ron said, "on how much of that you heard."

Harry dropped his face into his hands, partly to try to cover the mortification of the predicament Ron had put himself in, and partly trying to suppress the growing laughter. Hermione just looked on, wide-eyed, the look on her face partway in between horrified and amused.

"Oh, nothing much," Arthur said. "Only a young man fantasizing about snogging my servant." He raised an eyebrow at Ron, who looked to Harry and Hermione for help. He found none.

Turning back to the prince, he stuttered, "I wasn't fantasizing about anything." Arthur looked as if he were trying to decide whether he was amused or angry at Ron's clumsy attempt to explain himself. Ron tried again, "Hermione's angry at me, Sire, because she's in love with Merlin, and she said that I should feel the same way about him, and then I was being sarcastic."

Hoping that it was a good enough explanation and that word of this wouldn't reach Merlin (because it would be extremely awkward if it did), Ron hadn't noticed that Hermione's face was turning a bright shade of red.

"You idiot!" she fumed, and Arthur found himself glancing around for Merlin, so used to the word "idiot" being used to describe his servant. Hermione was, of course, talking to Ron, and she was so angry that Arthur didn't dare try to find out what was going on. "I am not in love with anyone! I was just saying that Merlin is something special, that you should also respect him, instead of treating him like he's done some sort of terrible wrong! All he's done is be nice to us and try to help us, and you act like I am so smitten with him that I need to be shaken out of it! You are so...infuriating!"

Ron snorted, but didn't risk answering back.

Arthur glanced at Harry. "I figured he was just joking," he said quietly. "I was just messing with him...I hope I didn't cause anything too serious."

Harry sighed wearily. "No, they do this a lot, actually," he admitted.

Arthur glanced at Hermione, who was having a whispered, heated discussion with Ron. "Is she really in love with Merlin?"

Harry shrugged. "Never can tell with Hermione." He locked eyes with Arthur. "But even if she was, would that be so bad? I mean, Merlin should be allowed to be loved by someone, too, even if he is just a servant."

Arthur grunted, not taking his eyes off Hermione. "I suppose. It's just..."

Harry nodded. "You fancy her."

"There's just something about her," Arthur mused. "Something...special." His shoulders slumped. "Your friend Ronald seems to have noticed that too."

Harry shrugged again. "Honestly, they bicker like an old married couple so often that I just learn to tune it out."

"Mmmm." Arthur straightened and took his attention off of Hermione, putting his "Prince face" back on. "Listen, Harry, I was wanting to speak with Hermione about something rather important, but since she is busy, I will talk with her later. Would you ask her if she will join me for dinner tonight?" He sighed, glancing at Ron. "All of you are welcome, of course."

Harry nodded. "Of course, Sire."

Arthur walked away, lost in thought.

Harry took a deep breath and headed forward into the midst of the battle, hoping he didn't suffer any great causalities trying to break up one of Ron and Hermione's famous fights.


A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter six, please review!

I will update soon! :)

~Emachinescat ^..^