Glad I'm not late this time! Since my Summer Holidays have arrived, I won't be so busy. Maybe some Chapters will be posted early? I don't know you'll just have to wait and see...

Thanks for the responses to Chapter 8, they were all wonderful and made me determined to keep up with my 'deadline'.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Merlin and I never will.


Arthur sat winded on the ground, looking worriedly over to Merlin. He'd still remained unconscious, even after the burst of magic that both Morgana and Mordred had thrown at them. The witch was now moving towards Mordred, a sly grin written all over her face. She pointed her hand towards Mordred's sword, and he gave it to her, nodding his head in a secret agreement. Arthur sluggishly removed his own sword from its sheath, his head spinning from the blow to the floor. His trusty blade was still perfectly balanced, the gold strip down the middle gleaming in the fading sunlight: he knew Morgana wanted to fight him.

"Would you fight a powerless man, Morgana? Would you fight a man who has no magic and who is also your brother?" Arthur started, pushing himself up from the ground. "Are you really that unfair?"

"Since when have ever been fair? And since when did you care about having magic or not: you've never lost before," Morgana retorted. "Or maybe you should have acquired a sorcerer to fight this battle for you if you feel you're going to lose," she toyed. Her eyes flickered to Merlin with amusement

She will not have him back, Arthur silently promised. He clenched his jaw, and gripped his sword firmly in protection and defence, ready for Morgana's impending attack.

"Mín áflygennesdiht áhnescian mín áglæca twiþráwen-eodor," Morgana murmured to Mordred's sword. Arthur could only watch as the blade in her hand started to warm and glow the same golden colour as her eyes, which swam with powerful magic. Arthur worried at the thought of what Morgana had cast upon her sword, but focused more on keeping Merlin safe. He kept his legs relaxed and slightly bent to absorb any form of shock that could be thrown at him, and made his body frame wide, set out to protect the one lying behind him.

The Knights still hadn't woken yet: it was down to him.

Morgana copied Arthur's stance, but with more attack and less defence in her form, and Arthur turned his sword in a fancy flick his father had taught him when he was just a boy; it was used to show off a fighters skill and ability with a sword, and was simple to master. It wasn't long before Arthur, as a boy, was challenging his friends, making them aware of just how good a fighter he was and how good he was going to get. Now it was the time when that flick would count the most against a powerful sorceress, who had more power than he could imagine.

Morgana and Arthur ran to each other, clashing their swords. Morgana's blade sparked with magic, and something was sent down Arthur's body. It shook his bones and made his muscles ache, making the very essence of his soul tremble, but Morgana would have to do a lot more to get Arthur to fall. He moved his sword away, which was now set wide to his body. He swung with huge force, and the blade once again hit Morgana's defence. Again, it sparked, and something painful was sent through his body. His arms were now aching with such pain that could only be acquired from a fight twice as long and twice as ferocious: it was Morgana's magic. The spell that she'd cast had made Arthur more vulnerable to attack, elevating his pain and energy he would have to expel. Sweat was now dripped along Arthur's brow as the magic turned his body heat up and more energy was destroyed.

Morgana remained cool and dry, the spell not affecting her in the slightest, a small grin etching onto her pale face as she saw her magic working inside her brother. This time, she was the one to pull away after observing Arthur for a few seconds. Arthur could only raise his sword in defence as his eyes watched Morgana swing down her old, battered blade against his relatively new, stronger blade, and felt his muscles begin to turn to jelly, shaking and wobbling inside his skin. His legs felt like his arms, and were struggling to hold him up. Morgana unleashed her ferocity, and gave hit after hit after hit until her magic made Arthur so weak he could barely keep his eyes open and his body upright. His chest was now closing up, removing the access to his lungs, and air was becoming harder to intake.

Arthur was struck to the ground, beaten, shaken and sweaty from Morgana's uproar. The tip of her blade was nagging dangerously close to his throat – one wrong move and that would be the end of him, and the end of Merlin's only hope of escape.

The Knights still hadn't woken up yet.

Morgana pressed the blade gently into his skin, and Arthur felt the back of his head touch the floor. "Have you changed your mind about abdicating the throne yet, King Arthur?" She sneered.

"You will never sit upon the throne of Camelot, Morgana!"

"This is your last chance, Arthur, before the fun starts," she said.

Arthur remained firm and true, and shook his head along the ground. Small stones and gravel were now merging with his hair, and scraping his scalp. That will be nothing compared to what she'll do to you, Arthur told himself, as the stones nibbled on his head. You need to think of something, now!

"Mordred, you know what to do," Morgana called. Arthur look at her, slightly confused. Wasn't she supposed to be torturing him for Camelot?

And then he remembered the one thing he was supposed to protect, for exactly this reason: Merlin – he was supposed to not let him fall back into their hands.

He had failed: Morgana lifted the pressure from her sword slightly, and he was able to turn his head to face Merlin, who now had Mordred leaning over him, face full of focus. There was no spell, no incantation for Mordred to mutter, unlike Morgana, but his eyes glowed the same colour the witch's irises. He was helpless, and unable to intervene, as Mordred place his hands over Merlin's temples, and his servant's eyes suddenly flew open. His blue eyes were contorted in pain, and seemed disturbed and horrified to waking so soon. His eyes were both wide and squinted – wide from the pain and terror that Mordred had injected inside him, squinted from the bright light that he'd woken to (or, at least brighter than what he was accustomed to now). At the awakening of his sight, his body began to visibly shake. His muscles were tensing underneath Mordred's magic, and he was unable to hold back a deafening shriek of desperation and hurt.

Arthur could feel tears well up in his eyes again, but let them flow this time: he'd told Merlin no man was worth your tears, but he felt Merlin would be the exception. The only other people he'd cry for would be his father – who he'd already shed tears for on his deathbed – and Gwen. He didn't care that Morgana was standing over him, and he didn't care if Merlin was nothing more than a servant. No, he was more than that: he was more than just a servant.

It was strange how noble and brave Merlin was. He'd stood by Arthur so many countless times, fighting armies and creatures he had no hope of fighting against, but remained true to Arthur, his Knights and Camelot when its fall seemed inevitable. Also, it seemed Camelot escaped destruction because of Merlin; Arthur would have fallen victim for Mary Collins all those years ago when he'd first met Merlin, and if Merlin had left after that day, where would he be standing now?

Merlin calmed down from his abrupt, painful arrival back to consciousness, and only worry could be seen on his face. Not for himself, of course, but for Arthur, whose eyes were locked in a similar state with Merlin's. However, their gaze was not held for long, as Mordred violently pulled Merlin from the ground. His dark shirt was growing darker, a faint gloss of shine seeping through the fabric – he was bleeding again. He held his body wearily, and was mostly standing from the aid of Mordred, who had his arms twisted violently behind his back and had placed a dagger to Merlin's throat, just as Morgana was pointing her sword to Arthur's. His dagger, however, was not his own: it was the one Arthur had given to Morgana for her birthday, which was laden with red, crimson jewels and the most reflective blade Arthur had ever come across.

And now it was being used against the person who advised Arthur to get her something more feminine than a simple dagger.

Morgana re-pressed the blade to Arthur's throat, and bent lower to her brother. "Will you give up now?" She said.

"I will never give up the throne of Camelot to you, Morgana," he spat.

"Not even for Merlin?" She crooned sarcastically. The tip of her sword was now digging into his throat, releasing a small current of blood down his neck.

Arthur looked to Merlin, who was shaking his head ever so slightly at Morgana's words. "Not even for Merlin."

"That's such a shame," she started. "Such a waste of a friendship. I thought you and Merlin were supposed to be more than just a King and his Servant. From what I observed, you two had a kind of connection no master and slave ever had, or does that mean nothing to you? Was it an act to make you look like a better King?"

"Merlin was not my slave. He was my friend!" Merlin lifted his head up as Arthur said that sentence, and something inside his friend glowed and smiled. It almost made Arthur smile to see something in Merlin shine through this ordeal, but kept up his facade with Morgana. "He still is my friend."

"Then why would you let him die to protect Camelot?" She interrogated.

Arthur leant his head back to the floor. "You don't understand, Morgana. You don't understand the loyalty that Merlin has towards Camelot. Time and time again I've tried to send him back from quests or tried to stop him from coming to battles with me, but he won't have it. He once told me he'd die by my side to protect Camelot and to save me, and I have no doubt that he would never give up his word, not for anything. Above all, though, I have faith and trust with him, and I know that if I were to die, he would never forgive himself, even if he wasn't supposed to protect me. That, Morgana, is what true friendship and loyalty is."

Morgana turned the blade to the side, and dug it in deeper to his neck. "You seem to misunderstand me then, Arthur; I do have loyalties, and I do understand what true friendship is. Look at Mordred and I. I wouldn't know what to do if I lost him, and for your blind thoughts and your stubbornness, you've left me no other choice," Morgana whispered to him. "You've just sacrificed your greatest defence," she smiled evilly. Arthur was somewhat confused at this remark. He was well aware of how brave and – sometimes – wise Merlin could be, but he didn't think for once that Merlin could defend Camelot. He was only Merlin after all, but the way Morgana spoke that last phrase, he knew there was a double meaning.

The witch leaned away from Arthur, and straightened her stance to her normal height. Arthur tried to pull himself up as he realised what was happening, but was hit by a slamming force from Morgana, whose hand magically pinned him against the floor. He was unable to move, unable to help as his friend struggled underneath the iron grip that Mordred held Merlin in. He was only able to watch as Morgana walked slowly and incredulously towards Merlin, pointing the blade that dripped with Arthur's blood at Merlin's stomach.

"NO!" Was the last thing Arthur could say before Morgana would give Merlin the final blow.


The awakening had been disorientating and painful for Merlin. It was horrible feeling your very soul being struck and torn away from its sheltered hiding place, but opening your eyes to a blinding light and unimaginable hurt was something that completely threw Merlin off track. He didn't care who was watching him or who had woken him, but only to pull through what felt like what he'd had to endure for the past two days all over again. Only when the pain had passed and reality sunk was when Merlin had realised what was going on.

There, lay out in front of his eyes, was Arthur struck down onto the floor, Morgana holding her sword to his neck; the knights were all unconscious to the far side of the courtyard, unable to aid him or Arthur; Mordred was leaning over his body, awaiting a signal from Morgana. Then, Merlin realised he wasn't waiting on Morgana as he pulled Merlin violently from the ground. Merlin could feel the gashes made from the whip already opening again, and he hoped Arthur hadn't lifted his shirt at all before this day: his ribs felt sore and bruised, and every breath he took physically hurt him. Gaius' teachings told him that his ribs were most likely broken, and he did not want Arthur worrying about him more than he already did.

Mordred spun him around to face Morgana and Arthur, and his vision began to spin. He could feel the muscles in his body failing him, and his legs were about to give way until Mordred caught him. The Druid then pulled out Morgana's jewelled dagger, and pinned it near to Merlin's throat. The blade was cold and sharp, and he kept himself from struggling too much in Mordred's hands.

Morgana was still demanding for the throne of Camelot, and Arthur was still being stubborn, turning down everything she had said. Merlin felt his magic crawling around his body, still weak from all that he'd been through in this castle. He could feel his body shutting down, allowing his magic to roam freely and group back together from its dispersed state.

"Merlin was not my slave. He was my friend!" Merlin lifted his head up as Arthur said that sentence, and he could feel something warm grow inside his body. Arthur called me his friend! Merlin thought excitedly to himself. Something inside Arthur's eyes told Merlin that he'd noticed his reaction, and seemed... almost happy, but kept up his facade with Morgana. "He still is my friend."

This can't be happening, Merlin then thought gravely. The one moment he declares me as his friend, his equal, and this is the moment something terrible it going to happen. Merlin then re-closed his eyes, and let his magic float in his veins. He could feel every cell of magical lust grow more powerful in every vein until they became a cell of real magical power for him to use. That was how his magic worked: when he slept, his magic that he'd expelled regrouped as a lust, a want or a need, but it was so instinctual that it was virtually breathing for Merlin. It swelled and grew, and Mordred sensed him. He pulled the dagger tighter to Merlin's throat, and shook his broken arms to snap him out of his weak slumber. As soon as Merlin's eyes opened, he could see Morgana rising steadily above Arthur, whose face was contorting with guilt and desperation for another way out of their situation.

After hearing what Arthur had said about him, about how he called him his friend, about his loyalty to Camelot was nothing like he'd ever seen before and that he trusted him, that was enough to pull his magic inside together before Mordred could stop him. He could hear Mordred suck in a large breath in panic, and he seized his opportunity: with pure instinct, he allowed his magic to course through his veins, and sent his power outside his body. His eyes glowed from the reaction, and Morgana was frozen in place. Her face was sealed in her confused expression towards Mordred, her arm outstretched with sword in hand. Merlin released another wave of magic, toppling the live statue of Morgana onto the floor next to Arthur.

Arthur, meanwhile, released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and relaxed his muscles in relief. His body was free to move now that Morgana had no control over her magic, and Arthur's jaw was free to drop at the realisation that Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin could see Arthur slowly moving his gaze towards him, a look of uncertainty in his eyes, especially after what he'd told Morgana.

Arthur knew now.

In the instant Merlin saw Arthur staring at him intently over magic, Mordred drew the dagger away from Merlin's throat, but, instead of slitting the flesh that he'd been threatening for the past few minutes, he plunged it straight into Merlin's back. Merlin's back bucked as the metal made contact with his body, which was now screaming in pain. Tears rolled down his eyes, and Arthur was shouting at Mordred to stop, clumsily getting up from the floor with his sword waving in the air. Mordred took out the dagger from Merlin's red, puffy back, smiling at his actions. Merlin, however, was not smiling.

As Arthur ran stupidly towards a much-more-powerful Mordred, Merlin grabbed his waist to stop him. The King was stronger than Merlin was, but managed to hold his weight when Merlin touched him. Arthur shot him a pained, vengeful look at what Mordred had done to him, but calmed down when Merlin shook his head in shame. Arthur stepped back, and Merlin was grateful. He mustered his magic once again, with much more urgency, though, and imagined the place around him.

He imagined a part of the courtyard floor cracking underneath Mordred's step, the roots from the trees springing up from their underground homes to trip to the sorcerer up and tangling him amongst the green roots. He imagined a great storm rolling in above castle, sending down an oblivion of rain over both Morgana and Mordred. He then took every instinctual and taught piece of magic he'd ever used and known and buried it underneath the ground and sending it high into the side. His magic connected with the elements above and below, and the whole area around him shook. He opened his eyes, revealing the longest flash of gold his magic had ever produced.

And then it started.

Left over magic set off Arthur's Colour Stick, which had rolled off somewhere in the middle of the courtyard near the Knights. Vibrations were reverberating underneath Merlin's feet, and rolled closer to Mordred, who was now running for his life. The ground then burst, throwing the cobble-stones from the courtyard all around them, and revealed long, dirty plant roots that were thick, fast and deadly. There were one, two... ten bursts from the ground, with more roots rising from the soiled edges of the forest encasing the castle. The nagged and pulled at Mordred's clothes, one tripping him over and sending him on his face. The roots then wrapped around the young man, who's magic was powerless to fend them off.

Merlin snuck a quick glance at Arthur: his eyes were staring at the scene around him, utterly shocked at how powerful Merlin was. If he doesn't accept me now... Merlin dismissed this thought, and continued with the plan set.

Mordred was drowning in a sea of green roots and vines in the courtyard, the only light being the bright blue flare which had accidently caught alight. The sky was vastly becoming a dark grey, more on the verge of black, and great rolls of cracking thunder boomed throughout the castle of Albion. The echoes set everyone's nerves shaking, and Merlin could see Morgana quaking slightly inside the shell of her frozen body. Suddenly, the rain fell, and it fell hard. The stone floor was instantly soaked with cold rain, which rushed off the stone and sunk into the soil below from where the roots had exploded. Everyone in the courtyard was drenched head to foot, with Merlin's clothes only just about sticking to his thin framed body. Blood was mixed with the rain that fell on him, but he stayed upright, intent on watching Arthur's reaction now.

Arthur wasn't as shocked as before: he was mostly scared, scared of what Merlin could do if he closed his eyes. He was also angry, angry that Merlin hadn't been able to save himself with all the magic he possessed, and then he felt ashamed for thinking that. No one could just unleash powers beyond human limitations while under heavy torture, could they? If anything, now, he was more confused as to why the flare was still glowing miraculously underneath the downpour of rain.

Merlin made a motion with his hand, and everything stopped. The roots retracted from their firm grasp over Mordred, and slugged back to their homes underneath the earth they stood upon. The rain ceased, and the thunderous clouds moved away, dispersing until only blue sky remained. The string on the flare was cut short, and no more blue light was radiated from the stick. It was over.

Morgana was trapped in her frozen form, and Mordred was lying in a heap on the floor, covered in soil and green stains from the roots. He was unconscious, bleeding slightly at the head. The Knights were rousing from their slumber, seeming confused as to the mess of the castle and why they were so wet.

Merlin felt so weak. He'd never used magic so powerful before, and he'd never been so injured before. He gasped, and felt his head go light and dizzy. Arthur noticed just in time, and was able to grab his manservant before his limbs succumbed completely to fatigue and weariness.

"You won't die today," he heard Arthur say. Arthur knows, Arthur knows, Arthur knows, Merlin repeated in his head. Arthur knows, he knows now... what do I do? He gave in to his bodies needs, as he felt Arthur bring him in closer. He didn't know what Arthur was doing, but at the way he was holding him and by what he had said just a second ago, Merlin registered everything he needed to be told.

Arthur was okay with his magic.


Okay, hope that was good... I was a bit nervous with Merlin's magic moment, and Arthur's reaction, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'll try to update soon.

PS: What do you think of the new Merlin trailer? I can't wait! Gahh, too many good things come out in September (New Muse album, Series 5 of Merlin..). I don't know if I could cope with all this new stuff, but I'm not complaining.

Please Review... if there's anything I can change in this Chapter, tell me and I'll work on it! I want my story to be as good as possible. I don't bite, I swear!