A/N: For a while there, I didn't think this chapter was going to make it out tonight. Thankfully, though, the muse was persistent, and even though I suffered greatly from writer's block initially when writing this chapter, I fought through it and the rest of the chapter just flowed. Hopefully you will be as pleased with this chapter as I am. :)

I want to thank the-dreamer4, Xanthiae, Isana, Jossi-kun, .Admirerer144, FireChildSlytherin5, Luiz4200, Sapphire Warrioress, ., darkmist11, and ruby890 for reviewing the last chapter! I also want to thank the people who have put this story on their alert list-40 alerts, this is the most I've ever had for any of my stories and I am positively thrilled and touched! You guys are amazing and you inspire me to keep writing!

I also want to thank my best buddy April, who, as a fellow Merlin junkie, talked with me about this chapter, the story, and the characters and helped me work out some kinks in the plot and giving me her input, advice, and support in this endeavor. :)

All that being said, please enjoy chapter 8 and PLEASE review! I will post chapter 9 as soon as humanly possible (Wednesday at the earliest, Friday at the latest).

Here's chapter eight...and don't forget to REVIEW! Your input is what keeps me and this story going! :)


The Most Deadly Alliance

Chapter Eight

Arthur dismissed the servant after the young, wiry boy of about fourteen had served the food and wine to the prince and his three guests. A fabulous meal had been prepared for this dinner with the three strangers in Camelot. There was pork, tender and juicy, the aroma so enticing the guests found themselves salivating. A variety of meats, cheeses, breads, and fruits surrounded the main course on smaller silver platters, and each person had a chalice of fine, red wine. The meal looked so scrumptious that even Ron was not looking as grumpy about being here, eating with the prince that he knew had feelings for Hermione. He glanced at the pork longingly, knowing that they couldn't begin eating until Arthur had taken his first bite.

Hermione was sitting on the right side of the table, closest to Arthur. Harry sat on the other side of her and Ron was across from Harry. They all sat rather stiffly in their chairs, not entirely sure of the nature of this visit to the prince's chambers.

After the serving boy had left the room, closing the door behind him, Arthur began to eat and Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed suit.

The meal was incredible—the three Hogwarts students couldn't be sure that the house elves that worked in the school kitchens could create a meal this pleasing. Ron did his best to look only moderately happy with the meal, but the way he was all but jamming slices of pork and cheese into his mouth gave away his fervor for dining royally. Arthur watched the red-head all but attack the food for a few seconds, looking halfway between disturbed and fascinated at how the boy was scarfing it down. He shook his head slightly and turned his attention to his right side, meeting Hermione's eyes.

Hermione wanted to look away from that intense, searching gaze, but found that she couldn't—something about the way Arthur was observing her, something deep in his eyes sparked a feeling in her heart. She felt, for the first time since meeting the prince, that perhaps the king of legend he would become was in there, somewhere, and that maybe—just maybe—the reason for calling them here wasn't something selfish or stupid as she had originally assumed. Finally, feeling her cheeks heat considerably, Hermione glanced down at her plate. Harry glanced between the prince and Hermione, trying to gauge what exactly was going on between the two. He felt as if they were having some sort of a moment—but what kind of moment, he had no idea.

Arthur, seeing Hermione's discomfort, cleared his throat. "I…want to thank you for accepting my invitation," he said, popping a grape into his mouth. After he had swallowed, he continued. Glancing again at Hermione, he said, "You three…you intrigue me."

Harry nearly choked on a sweet, doughy roll. Surely Arthur didn't suspect that there was something off about them? That they had magic? Harry felt his heart beating faster and hoped that no one else could hear the rhythmic pounding against his rib cage. "Er…we do? Sire?" Harry quickly added on the title, hoping that his nervousness wasn't bleeding through to the outside.

Hermione and Ron waited for Arthur's reply with wide eyes.

Arthur inclined his head. "The way you talk and behave…it's different."

Hermione tried to hide the flash of panic that she felt. "Are we, Sire?"

Arthur pursed his lips, thinking. "It almost seems as if you know something…something more than I originally thought."

Ron started coughing and thumping his chest as the piece of cheese he had just popped into his mouth suddenly became very difficult to swallow as his throat went dry.

Harry felt a wave of annoyance wash over him, replacing some of the initial fear he felt that Arthur had discovered them. The prince obviously suspected something but almost seemed to be toying with them, fishing for incriminating information before accusing them of whatever it was he was thinking. "And what is it, Sire, that you think we know?" he asked, a faint tinge of irritation sprinkled in his question. Ron shot him a look and Hermione continued to stare at Arthur.

Arthur's eyes flicked from Hermione to Harry. "The three of you have bonded with my servant, Merlin, very quickly," he said slowly. He turned back to Hermione. "And you, Ms. Granger, are exceedingly protective of him. I must say, I have never had a commoner speak to me so bluntly about how I should treat someone or act before." He smiled almost fondly. "Except for Merlin, that is." He locked eyes with the three of them in turn. "You seem convinced that Merlin is someone extraordinary, from what I heard of your…erm…disagreement with your friend here. You are angry when he is picked on and don't hesitate to let me know." He chuckled, as if bewildered. "Most surprising of all, you all seem to dislike me a lot."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Is that why you asked us here?" she wanted to know. "To find out why we aren't licking your shoes or trembling in your presence?" Fearing that she may have gone too far, and feeling the shocked gaze of Harry, Ron, and Arthur, she quickly added, "Your highness."

She expected Arthur to get angry, to order her to leave, to demand she apologize. What she did not expect, however, was for the prince to burst into great peals of laughter. "That's it!" he hooted. "That's what I'm talking about, Ms. Granger. Your absolute refusal to say anything less to or about me than how you feel."

Hermione's eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared under her bangs. "And this is…funny?" she asked slowly, wondering if the stress of being prince had finally gotten to Arthur.

Still chortling, he managed to control himself and reply, "Not necessarily. It's just…you three…you amuse me. Never have I had anyone, even a noble, speak to me so blatantly. Except Merlin, of course. It intrigues me, and yes, it does amuse me. I have never met a girl like you, Hermione Granger," he said softly, catching all three of them off guard. As if realizing he had gotten off topic and was ignoring his other two guests, Arthur pointedly looked away from Hermione and cleared his throat.

"So what exactly does our honesty have to do with why you asked us here?" Harry asked slowly.

"As I said, you three intrigue me. And you are very friendly and defensive of my servant."

Ron snorted, the sense of danger passing. "What, are you jealous?"

Arthur smirked. "Hardly. As much as it may shock you, Mr. Weasley, I am not an idiot, and I can very easily put two and two together."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Hermione said, looking genuinely interested in what the prince had to say.

"Yeah, we're not idiots either," Ron said, reaching for a piece of bread. "We know that you're trying to be dramatic, but could you just spit it out?" he grumbled.

Arthur pierced him with a look. "Somehow, I don't find your smarmy remarks as amusing as Ms. Granger's, Weasley," the prince said, a slight edge to his voice.

Ron gulped and fell silent, remembering Merlin's adventures in the stocks and not wanting to find out firsthand what being pelted with fruits and vegetables of the rotten variety felt—or smelled—like.

Turning back to the topic at hand, Prince Arthur said, "It's quite obvious—you know Merlin, are friends with him. Most likely, you grew up with him. You don't like the way that I treat your old friend."

Harry started to correct the prince, to tell him that they had only just met, but Hermione interrupted him. "And that revelation led to a dinner party?"

Arthur sighed. "I have a confession to make, Hermione. What you said to me, the other day, in the square…it stuck with me. I do treat Merlin very poorly at times." He frowned. "This is harder to admit than I thought," he admitted.

"We're listening," Hermione said, and Harry and Ron both nodded in agreement. No one was eating now. There was a tension in the air. Was the prince really admitting that he had been wrong?

Arthur nodded slowly. "I'm sure Merlin told you about the…er…disagreement we had the other day. I made a complete…prat…of myself and said some things to Merlin that I know really hurt his feelings. Apparently, he considers me to be his friend."

"Yes," Harry said softly. "He does—and he is very hurt and confused as to why you are pushing him away. He thinks that you are very angry at him."

"I just don't understand," Arthur said simply.

"Understand what?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Why he considers me a friend, and why he is so bloody loyal to me," Arthur said. "Most servants I've had before were far more respectful than Merlin, but they were boot-lickers, through and through. Only wanted something from me, whether it be my approval, a pay raise, or heaven knows what else. But Merlin…he does not hesitate to speak his mind, he teases me, talks to me…He treats me like a friend, though…and when it comes to loyalty, to sticking by my side no matter what the odds, to risking his life for mine…he'd do it in a heartbeat. And want nothing in return."

"Yeah, I don't understand it either," Ron muttered. Arthur ignored him.

"One time," Arthur said softly, "we had a banquet to celebrate a peace treaty. Merlin came rushing into the hall, babbling about how my chalice was poisoned." He chuckled sadly. "I thought he had gone mad. My father demanded that he drink the liquid in the goblet to determine whether he was telling the truth or not."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "How terrible!" she breathed.

"I tried to convince my father not to make him drink it," Arthur said softly, his voice haunted. "I tried to convince Merlin to give the goblet back to me, to let me drink from it. But he refused."

"Was it poisoned?" Harry asked.

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes holding a faraway pain, as if remembering something he'd rather forget. "At first, everything was fine," he said shakily. "And then he started choking…coughing…he was holding his throat and the pain on his face…" He shuddered. "He could barely breathe. He collapsed."

"So what happened?" Ron asked, drawn into the story.

Either Arthur didn't hear him or was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the emotions that were rampant in his voice. "All I could think of was that he was going to die. Gaius said that the poison he had drunk induced a…" his voice faltered, "…a slow and painful death." Hermione, not even realizing what she was doing, placed a gentle hand on his arm, comforting him. "I-I couldn't imagine that, couldn't bear the thought of Merlin writhing in agony, dying a terrible death. And all because he had the courage, the sheer loyalty, to tell me of his suspicions. It…was terrifying," Arthur admitted, his eyes glassy. "No one has ever made such a sacrifice for me…You should have seen him, it was terrible to have to watch, and Gaius and Gwen have both told me that it got even worse as time wore on.

"He was hot and sweaty and he couldn't breathe but in small, painful gasps. He tossed and turned and groaned in pain. I couldn't bear to see him so broken."

Seeing that Arthur had never truly come to terms with this part of his past and with the emotions and fears surrounding it, Hermione was shocked to see how Arthur had opened up and let out this flood of memories and fear wash out of him so unhindered. "What happened, Arthur?"

Shaking his head as if trying to dislodge a heavy weight, Arthur responded, "I found the antidote and Merlin was fine."

Hermione nodded, realizing that Arthur was very embarrassed about his outburst and that his willingness to talk about his experience had come to a hasty end. She knew that they would be getting no more of this story tonight.

"If you ever," he said severely, pointing a finger at each one of the Hogwarts students in turn, "—EVER—tell Merlin anything I said, I will have all FOUR of you in the stocks for a week. Is. That. Understood?"

All three of Arthur's dinner guests hastily nodded their heads. "I wanted to thank you, Hermione, and Harry—and yes, even you, Ronald, for bringing your feelings to my attention. I want to commend you for sticking by your friend."

Hesitantly, Hermione asked, "That wasn't all you wanted to say was it, Arthur?"

The prince shook his head wearily. "Hermione, you very bluntly told me that I treat Merlin as a servant. He is a servant. But you also told me that not only is he a servant, but he is a person too. I guess I never really thought about how all this might make him feel…I mean, look at him. He's always such a happy-go-lucky idiot, always smiling and oblivious. I never thought of him being upset or stressed out…I mean, he has a lot of duties cleaning up after me, but unlike me, the weight of Camelot does not rest on his shoulders."

Ron snorted slightly. "You'd be surprised," he muttered.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I said is there any pie?" Ron quickly improvised.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "After all that food, you're still hungry? Never mind. What I was saying was that I guess I saw him as a person, but not the kind of person that is complex, that has deeper feelings than happy or sad. And while I'm not sure I've reached the point where I can say I am friends with Merlin, I can honestly say that you three—especially you, Hermione—have opened my eyes to the fact that he is more than just Merlin the servant. And I will try to see past that as best I can."

Hermione softly added, "And perhaps, sooner than you think, you may reach the point where you can call Merlin your friend."

Arthur grunted uncomfortably. "Perhaps," he muttered.

"Even now," Hermione went on, "I believe that you really are Merlin's friend, even if you can't—or won't—see it yet. Arthur, you said it yourself. He is loyal and treats you not like Arthur the Prince but Arthur the Person. I'm not saying you should turn your whole relationship around and start treating him like the prince, but if you would take the time to listen to him, give him the time of day, and not lord over him every second, not push him away—I believe that would mean more to him than anything. He's given you everything—nearly given his life for you—and if you could give him a little back, even if it is just offering your hand in friendship, that would go a long way."

There was a long silence as Arthur contemplated her words. "You are a wise woman, Hermione Granger," Arthur said slowly, admirably.

Hermione blushed crimson and Ron scowled. This caused Harry to snort in laughter. Seeing their petty bickering begin to spark to life again after such an intense, emotionally raw conversation made Harry want to chuckle. Hermione rolled her eyes distastefully at Ron.

"She's not wise," Ron said affectionately. "Just a know-it-all."

Harry burst into laughter, which apparently was quite contagious. Hermione and Ron joined in, which prompted Arthur to chortle as well.

Without warning, in the midst of the newfound frivolity, an intense, sickening, crippling jolt of pain ripped through Harry's forehead, causing his vision to go blurry. He felt himself toppling, heard the startled shouts of his friends. Now only seeing black, he more sensed than felt the thud as he landed on the hard stone floor, cracking the back of his head against the stone. After that, awareness slipped from his feeble grasp and he felt himself falling into darkness, a terrible, stinging pain shooting like lightening on his forehead, even in unconsciousness.


There is a snake.

The snake is giant and its eyes are black.

The black eyes of the snake seem kind and welcoming.

Those kind an welcoming black eyes of the giant snake make you want to trust it, to love it, to embrace it.

The snake is harmless.

It moves closer.

The eyes are still black.

Those black eyes are so shiny you can see your reflection in them as if each black, unblinking orb is a mirrored ball.

The kind of mirrored ball that sucks all light into it so that no light can escape.

The mirrored ball is enchanting.

Now the ball is a pupil.

The pupil is dilated tremendously.

There is but a tiny, thin, thread-like sapphire line around the black, mirrored pupil.

The pupil begins to shrink.

The iris of the eye is blue in its purest, most intense form.

What raw power in the blue eyes!

The pupil is gone and all that is left is the blue, radiating a terrible, terrible power that is raw and frightening and beautiful.

From that blue, a snake slithers.

This is an even bigger snake.

Its eyes are red and in them torment, unspeakable pain can be found.

A screaming face burns in flames in the crimson depths of the enormous snake's burgundy eyes.

The snake's face begins to morph.

The snake's face elongates and its body begins to grow arms and legs.

The snake sheds its jet-black scales.

Underneath those scales is skin.

The skin under the scales is whiter than death.

The face is hideous, terrifying, and oh so evil.

The person in the eyes continues to scream…

He is in agony.

He will die.


Morgana woke up, her chest heaving in panic.

Of all the nightmares that she had ever encountered, this was by far the worst, the most terrifying, the most real.

She was so horrified, so consumed with raw, relentless terror, that she could not even scream. She just lay there in bed, hyperventilating, drenched in a cold sweat, sobbing uncontrollably. Her stomach rebelled and she retched over the edge of her bed, still crying from the very depths of her soul. She heard Gwen running for her, but she could not even roll over to face her handmaiden.

When Gwen reached her, Morgana clung to her, heaving, her stomach emptied. She dug her nails into Gwen's shoulders as if clinging onto her maid for life. She tried to speak, terror dripping with every syllable.

"Eeer…" she gasped, unable to form words.

"My Lady!" Gwen sounded so scared, apparently afraid Morgana was having some sort of fit. "I'm going to get Gaius!"

"NOOOOO!" Morgana shrieked, her voice returning. Gwen jumped, startled by the piercing outburst and terrified for her mistress. "No, Gwen, don't leave me," she sobbed. "You have to warn him—he is going to suffer…suffer, he will die…you have to…so dark…the snake…death…the pale man…red eyes…he's going to kill him…he's going to die…to hurt…suffer…torture…YOU HAVE TO WARN HIM!"

"What? Who?" Gwen fretted, nearly as frantic as Morgana.

"He is in terrible danger…die…torment…you have to save him, Gwen!"

"Morgana, please!" Gwen pleaded. "You have to wake up! Who do you want me to warn? Arthur? Uther? This is just a dream! Please, Morgana…what is it you want me to do? Who did you dream is going to die?"

Morgana whimpered softly, the sound nearly breaking Gwen's heart. The tremor in her voice and the finality of her next words shook Gwen even more. "Merlin."

"What?" Gwen said shakily.

"MERLIN!" Morgana screamed. "Merlin…he is going to…to suffer…Merlin…is going to die!" Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Morgana whispered, "Warn him…"

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp.


A/N: Well, there was chapter eight, I hope it was worth the wait (hehe, that rhymed!) As I said, I will update soon, but in the meantime, let me know what you think! This chapter was pretty sensitive and emotional, yet incredibly exciting to write. I don't know if there's a screw loose in my own head, or if I should have been a Psychologist, but I love tinkering around in the characters' minds, playing with their emotions, and experimenting with their innermost desires, their passions, their doubts, and their fears. I like to make them analyze their thoughts and try to understand their own feelings. It's great fun! Hopefully I'm halfway succeeding in my goal! Anyway, please don't forget to REVIEW, thanks billions to all of you who have, and I will be here with chapter nine ASAP!

~Emachinescat ^..^