AN: Hello! Welcome to one of my favorite chapters on this fic! Why do I like it? It's basically just awesome. ;) Enjoy!

(Oh, and just FYI: this chapter is told from the POV of Merlin's cousin, Niniane, who was introduced in Beginnings.)

Changes: Just editing.

Dangers

Why You Shouldn't Get Merlin Angry. EVER.

Arthur's Time

Perhaps I should feel a perverse pleasure in retelling your experiences, and draw them out as long as is possible, but I don't, and I won't; a succinct version will have to appease even the most curious reader. Suffice to say, the first time it happened, you were seven years old and living in your father's castle in Avalon. Being the daughter of the king of the Unseelie Court has its advantages, but you didn't feel them at such an early age; this was before you let the knowledge of your royalty get to your head. Your only joy at that time was leaving the confines of the courtyard and venturing out into the unknown with your older brother, Gaheris, sometimes exploring the surrounding woods (without fear - no creature would dared have attacked any child of Camlach's), sometimes watching the common people, and sometimes going over to visit your Uncle Ambrosius.

This last pastime was your favorite, I believe, since it was done at such frequent intervals as a child. There, in the lands of the Seelie Court, was love and peace. No goblins to grovel annoyingly, no Sidhe like overgrown mosquitoes, and no Father to glare disapprovingly. Usually you, Gary, and your two older cousins would frolic in the meadows under the watchful and smiling eye of your aunt and/or uncle, occasionally joined by a nursemaid or two.

But once, in the year that I mentioned before, there was an extra reason to scamper over to your uncle's castle: your Aunt Hunith and cousin Merlin were coming to visit. This had not happened in years! So, after grudging permission was given, scamper over you did, and meet your aunt and cousin for the first time since you were about three months old. They were exactly as you imagined, and more. Many hours were spent laughing in the castle.

This next part is not the most pleasant, and so less ink will be used in its telling. Sundown came, and alone and unafraid the two of you set off into the growing darkness. As I believe I've mentioned, Camlach is so feared in Avalon even the notion of you and your brother being attacked would have been ludicrous . . . unless the creature attacking didn't know you were the daughter of Camlach, or didn't know who Camlach was. It so turns out that wyverns don't know either of these things, though whether this was because they had come from the World of Men or the fact their species is (as generally thought) dangerously stupid, is not known.

Merlin saw it coming, and, like a good older cousin, ran to save the two of you. He barely made it; your best dress was torn, and there your father found the three of you.

"It's too dark to return to the castle, Merlin," he said, and were you imagining that dark glint in his blue eyes? "You must rest the night at the Unseelie Court."

Merlin tried to protest, but he was a twelve-year-old peasant boy against a twenty-nine-year-old eloquent king: there can be no doubt as to who won that argument. The return was cold and silent; there was no dinner.

It went from bad to worse. Gary's feelings of unease were so great he came to you in the middle of the night with news: Merlin's room was empty.

"Could he have simply left?" you asked.

"And risked making Father even angrier?" Gary replied incredulously. "I hope he has more sense - and self-preservation - than that. No, something's happened. Can't you feel it?"

That you could, and it drew you down and away from any light and goodness, down to your father's private study, a subterranean dungeon neither of you have entered for fear of Camlach's wrath. There you found Merlin, and your father. There the seed was planted, winding for years and years into your mind, a whisper at the edge of your consciousness.

"If only you weren't so self-righteous," your father spat in rage, leaning in close to examine Merlin's lean face. "Then you would make a better king than my sniveling son! And don't even get me started on Niniane-" Here he stopped and covered his face in despair. You and your brother looked at each other, not really surprised but hurt all the same. Deep inside you, invisible hands dug and planted the seed of doubt, the seed that would whisper forevermore: He's better than you . . . "Your powers are beyond anything we fairies are capable of," the king your father continued. "In no time at all, you would be able to wrest control of the whole of Avalon, Albion, the entire human world! Resources would be at your fingertips, everyone would bow to you (whether they wanted to or not), country after country would fall to your might. And yet, here you sit, subject to a weak human king in Escetia, farming with illiterate idiots, and hiding from a vengeful king!"

He seemed lost for words. Merlin was staring at him like he had never seen anything quite like him, as if he was a hideous vegetable just pulled out of the earth and still covered in dirt.

"I-" your cousin said. "I-why would I want that? My mother loves me, and she's taught me that's wrong, that to abuse my power is the worst I could do. I wouldn't like it if Cendred became a tyrant, and I think others would like it even less if I did what you say. Don't you realize it's wrong?"

"What's wrong to some people may be right to others."

"Well, here's what I say to those people: you don't like the rules society has? Pack up and move somewhere else, and you can follow your wrinkled heart there. Just don't bother us, and we won't bother you."

Merlin's mouth thinned to string, and his jaw was tight. He was angry, you realized, really angry, and if what your father says is true, that could be dangerous for everyone. Your father hadn't noticed the two of you, but you wanted to leap out and shout a warning: "Don't say anything more, Father! Please, don't!"

Obviously you're not a psychic, because your mental warning goes unheeded. What your father said next doesn't make a whole lot of sense to you, because though the whisper combined with your nature have yet to take full affect, you are still Niniane, and you don't know why threatening Aunt Hunith would do Camlach any good. Gary groans.

Merlin's eyes flashed, and he was on his feet in an instance. Twelve-years-old, tall for his age, but also small in the way still-growing boys are, bones sticking out of every tear in his clothes like there wasn't enough skin to cover him all, and he still looked frightening. Darkness crossed his face, and gold glittered in his eyes, like fireflies reflected in a pond.

"How dare you," he said, and his voice trembles. "How dare you."

Camlach had no sense of self preservation. "I'm the king, boy. I can dare whatever I like."

Your cousin raised an eyebrow coldly. "I'll let you think about the validity of that sentence for a few years. I'm going to leave, and I'd better not have to see you again, Uncle."

"Is that a threat?"

"Take it how you like, I really couldn't care less." Even not really knowing your cousin, you saw he was running on fury and adrenaline: this wasn't usually how he acted. "Just . . . stay out of the human world, Uncle, because if you bother us, I'll make sure you regret it."

Your father smiled in a sinister matter, as if very pleased by this command. "I'll look forward to it," he says, watching as Merlin walked to the door and left, then followed him. Neither noticed the two of you crouching behind the shelves.

You looked at Gary, eyes wide, not quite comprehending what had just come to pass. Most of it had passed over your head, but this much you knew: your life would never be the same again.

I needn't write much of the next few years. You grew, your father set out of conquer all, and he died at the unwitting hands of Merlin. You became almost an apprentice to your cousin, and somewhere along the way he gained the gift of immortality (he doesn't think of it as much of a gift, though). The whisper stills.

For now.

"She's been poisoned?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet, sire. My primary concern is for her immediate health."

"Yes, yes of course."

"I think you should go and stop any political turmoil that may be brewing in the dining hall, sire. Stop this war before it starts. I will send Niniane if her condition changes."

"I-"

"Arthur, please. You know I will do everything in my power to save Gwen's life."

" . . . I know. Remember, if there's but the slightest change-"

Slam!

"Merlin?"

"Who would do this, Gaius? Who would hurt Gwen?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

" . . . "

"Control yourself, Merlin. Getting angry will help no one, least of all Gwen. But you can help her."

"Yes? A plant I can fetch? A spell I can say? A poisoner I can-"

"Merlin!"

"Sorry. Just . . . a little on edge here. What can I do?"

"Take this. Since her goblet has gone missing, I have no way of knowing what poison he used, and therefore I can't make an antidote. Thisshould enable you to track the poisoner. Probably. But right now it's the best I can do, I must keep her fever down. Can you do this for me?"

"Of course I can, Gaius. I'm assuming you want him alive? . . . Alright, alright, don't look at me like that, I just wondered!"

"Be careful."

"I will be."

"Gaius? Will he be alright?"

"What? Oh, I'm sure he will be, Niniane; his friend is ill, that's all. That would hurt anyone, make anyone angry. But I'm afraid . . . "

"Why?"

"Merlin's very powerful, you know, and I've seen what he can do in anger. Oh well, there's not much I can do. He's learning to control himself, at least, and that's all I can really expect."

Though the much-beloved Queen Guinevere was soon on her feet, the war happened anyway. It was a long one, hard and bitter. Merlin stood on the King's right hand throughout it all, defending and attacking with the best of them, but neither of them would let you fight with them. "Please, Niniane," Merlin would plead, "stay here and protect Gwen." You were never able to defend against those eyes, so much like your father's; Camlach had never been really kind, but he had raised you and cared for you, and you were like him in more ways than you wanted to admit.

Too much like him, it would seem, because you soon tired of standing on the sidelines with the queen, performing your (no point in denying it) mediocre healing spells on the seemingly endless lines of wounded, and waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting for something to change.

You almost didn't complain to Merlin, but were later glad you did: he recruited you for a secret mission.

"Has Arthur agreed to this?" you asked as he led the way through darkened woods.

"Er, not exactly," he replied awkwardly. "I sort of, um, left him a note."

This almost gave you a heart attack. "So, no back up?" you asked, struggling for calm.

"You're my back up."

"I see. Do you even have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan!" Merlin snapped, giving you the evil eye (out of those blue eyes he got from his grandfather, the ones your father had too . . . but you try not to think about that).

After much bickering, tripping, trembling of bushes, and reorienting, the two of you finally reached the enemy camp. "So tell me this plan of yours."

Never looking away from the shifting shadows beyond the tents, Merlin whispered, "I thought I could try and make him see sense."

"Make King Lot see sense?" You snorted. "Good luck."

"Even he'll have to realize he's being foolish when he sees Arthur also has magic on his side. I knowthat man cannot be stupid, he must realize this war could go on forever, and destroy everything. So if I could just talk to him-"

You're not sure if this is a good plan or not, but then again, you've never met Lot. How on Earth he didn't already know of Merlin's powers was beyond you, but experience had taught you that your cousin was right a lot of the time. "Alright then, let's go!" You made to sneak forward.

Merlin grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You're staying here, I need someone to be a lookout, and besides, if you did come in, I just know you'd end up transforming him into a ferret . . . "

You didn't even bother arguing: he's absolutely right. So you watched with hawk eyes as he rather nonchalantly walked right into the king's tent. You remember someone, probably Camlach's chief spy, saying that if you look and act like you belong somewhere, people watching will be more likely to believe it as well.

Soldiers and knights of King Lot's realm entered and exited tents, laughing, resting, tending wounds, and eating. Always eating. You thought that Camelot might profit from conquering the kingdom of Lothian - at least you would never go hungry again.

What felt like an hour passed, and you grew bored. You started to look fondly at the fires, and even at the men surrounding them. Trust Merlin to leave you sitting in the cold, waiting for him, again. But then again, why would he want you to join him? You're the weak link here, the loose cannon, the one with the untameable temper, the girl who is too much like her psycho father to really be of any use to anyone. Why did Merlin even take you on as his apprentice? It's not like you're really that good anyway, like all fairies your magic is weak compared to a human's. Fairy magic is not meant for creating fire and divining the future, it's meant for paltry tricks and illusions, stealing a human baby, dazzling the eyes of a chasing knight. With these down-trodden thoughts, your heart grew depressed and heavy. Pity, you thought,that's why he did it. He pities me. Gaheris got a kingdom, and what did I get? My father's personality. Whoop-de-do.

There was a sudden commotion from the camp, as the Lothian soldiers jumped to their feet and drew their swords. Merlin had exited Lot's tent, and in his hand he clutched a struggling-

Rabbit?

You blinked a couple times, just to make sure it wasn't some figment of your imagination. But, sure enough, the rabbit stayed the same, dark-furred, nasty-eyed, and screaming bloody murder in the incomprehensible rabbit tongue. Merlin clutched its back legs, and the look on his face - you swallowed, then muttered to yourself, "I think Merlin should have been more worried about losing his own temper. Or was that the plan this whole time?"

Merlin stepped forward and held the animal high. "Soldiers of Lothian!" he called out. "You have been tricked! You came here thinking you were taking back the rightful lands of your king, but in truth he has been greedy. In folly he married the witch Morgause and made her his queen. She thought to lure him into taking Camelot for her half-sister to rule, when in reality Morgana is not the rightful heir to the throne. I have seen how Morgana rules, and trust me-" here he stopped for a moment to regain some composure, ducking his head down for a moment, "-trust me, you do not want anyone of her sort on the throne. You don't believe me? Ask your king!"

Merlin seemed to control an instinct to toss the rabbit-king from him, and instead thrust it into the hands of a servant. "Take him back to his wife, and there he may regain his true form. I will not that I should ever see his face again. And when you see Morgause and Morgana, tell them this: Emrys is watching. Always. Camelot is defended, and they had better believe it."

And then Merlin turned, and walked away.

A few years later, Gaheris visited, toting Vivian. Ever since the princess had found out about her magical powers, she had been hiding out in Avalon with your brother, helping him subdue the rebellious Unseelie Court, and generally inserting herself into the infrastructure of the kingdom.

And (though you, personally, were loathe to admit it), your brother's heart. Never had you seen him so smitten by anyone, and to see that the feeling was returned by the golden-haired beauty - it was rather beyond belief. When you mentioned this to Merlin, he smiled his little secret smile, put his arm around your shoulders, and proceeded to tell you a tale that included a love spell, Arthur, and several kisses.

"Oh," was all you could think of to say.

But Gaheris' coming was a boon; King Lot was again gathering his army, but this time there was no pretence in hiding Morgause's hand in the proceedings, as she ruled the kingdom in her husband's absence. Morgana, it seemed rode at her brother-in-law's side.

Carefully, using the skills of strategy that you hadn't even known he possessed, Arthur stepped up to everyone's expectations of him and drove the war off like it was a mangy dog. There were no secret missions that time, and you were bored again. How annoying was the ease with which boredom would come to you! At the most inopportune moments you would feel a yawn coming on, usually at time when absolute silence was desirable, or your attention would swing off in the general direction of Mars, without your consent or happiness. Inactivity was your bane. When you went to find Merlin and whine about it (admit it, that was your basic plan), he and Arthur were in the king's study, talking.

May I just say right now that everyone who eavesdrops runs the risk of hearing things they don't wish to hear?

Let us continue.

"I'm not sure what else to do," Arthur had said softly, and you could imagine him running a hand over his face as he slumped a bit in his chair. He was completely at ease showing his emotions in front of Merlin. "This war could go on for years. You, turning Lot into a rabbit . . ."

"He deserved it. But you're right, it was rash, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be stupid, I was about to say it's just making Lot angrier, and when he's angry, he doesn't act well. You've seen it."

They both chortled slightly at some shared memory. Jealousy at their camaraderie made you pout.

It was like Arthur had known you were there. "How about Niniane? Is she holding up well?"

Merlin hesitated. "She's . . . being Niniane. As usual."

The king almost groaned. "Of course she is. Guinevere tells me she's been acting strangely."

"She's bored, Arthur. I really don't know what to do about it. With this war, I can't stay here and entertain her, and she knowsshe can't go with us; she's erratic and untrained, it'd be dangerous."

"You have to tell her that then, or she'll just-"

You didn't hear any more as you slunk away resentfully. Was it your fault you couldn't seem to stay interested in your duties? No! It was your stupid temperament that wouldn't focus on anything else.

Vivian was in Merlin's study when finally you returned to it. She stood in a ray of sunshine, and for a moment you thought her hair was indistinguishable from it, so brightly did it glow. The princess raised her eyebrows at you, and you glared.

"Something the matter?" she inquired, her high, clear voice shattering the near silence. "You look like someone rained on your parade."

"Ha!" you sneered, knowing you were being childish, but not really caring. "Thundershowers, Your Highness, thundershowers. Merlin had deceived me into believing he trusted me, but no more. Now I know what he thinks of me. I'm just his crazy cousin . . . "

Vivian almost laughed. "I know exactly how you feel," she told you, and you raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You'll of course remember that I was the most spoiled and selfish princess in the Five Kingdoms? Well, who knows how much has changed inside of me, but I certainly feel different. And yet . . . people here tread lightly around me. They remember what I was. Even Gaheris, for all his kindness, gets a little leery when I'm in one of my moods. So yes, I know how it feels to have the shadow of your past self looming over you." She stepped closer and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry yourself too much, Niniane, you're making fine progress. And remember, if you ever need to talk, I live just through the Lake."

I certainly don't want anyone reading my history of your progress - or regress, depending on the viewpoint - to think that all Merlin did was lose his temper. Heavens no, this was not the case. In fact, his outbursts had years in between them, and most of the time, his cheery disposition and optimistic outlook overshadowed any homicidal tendencies. In fact, almost everyone, yourself included, ignored his dark side and focused on the good. Bards sang of his power and magnanimousness, ladies swooned and fluttered their eyelashes like horses with eye diseases, and everyone treated him with profound respect.

Well, except for Arthur (some things never change; to him, Merlin would always be an idiot), the knights (brothers, the lot of them), Gwen (respect, yes. Profound, no), and, of course, you. Merlin was your cousin, and therefore did not need your respect, or something similar. The only person you had ever shown respect to was your father, and everyone knew Niniane never changed. Despite this, you and Merlin grew closer as the years passed. Then about ten years after you set foot in Camelot, something happened that sealed Merlin's fate forever. I will tell it briefly, for it concerns our tale.

Your memories are a little faulty due to how fast everything happened, but you remember a strange creature, like a falcon with golden feathers and steel talons, ravaging the citadel, and helping to bring it down with a net.

The beast would not be defeated to so easily: it flung Arthur so hard that Merlin cried out in fear, and snapped the net trying to free itself. Then a young man sprinted out of the crowd and took up the net, helping to hold it. It was a magical holding, and you could feel his power. It annoyed you - who was he to butt in like that? - but he served a good purpose in somehow managing to restrain the bird's claws so that Gwaine could get close enough to land a hit.

Afterwards, Merlin approached the young man and thanked him. Excited, the man (no, boy, you decided) smiled widely and almost gushed, "It's not a problem at all sir, I'm glad I could help. My name's Balin, by the way."

You despised him from the very start. He was quite shy, especially around Merlin, his 'hero', but he worked hard and listened well to anything you ranted about. And then there were his dark eyes and hair, and . . .

Ahem. Moving on.

Your 'slight' infatuation with Balin would end very badly: two weeks after the incident with the falcon, Merlin announced he was taking the man on as an apprentice.

You spilled your soup. "Excuse me?"

Merlin bit his lip, but repeated, "I'm taking Balin as my apprentice. I've asked, and he's accepted."

You couldn't have been more shocked if Merlin announced he would burning all his neckerchiefs. "But . . . what about me? I'M your apprentice!"

He has the audacity to look unsurprised, which I suppose he probably was, and he answered you simply. "Niniane, you're twenty-seven years old. You don't need me anymore."

You left that night. You knew that you were being silly and childish, running away like this, but Merlin's declaration of your independence had left you reeling. You didn't need him anymore? Yeah right! If anything, you felt like you needed him more than ever, needed him to protect you from the darkness that tried to overwhelm you. Your previous nature leered in from the shadows of your mind, breaking out in a rash of selfishness and hate, and you feared it. You did not feel like you had the strength to hold it back. You needed Merlin's light, you needed someone'slight, to fend it off.

But what you really needed now was someone to talk to. Preferably not Merlin.

Your trip to the Lake of Avalon seemed shorter than usual, probably your distracted thoughts. Carefully, you spoke the spell that opened the walkway into your home, and stepped into the water. Holding your breath, you struggled slightly towards the growing light ahead.

A pale hand grasped yours, and you looked to the side and saw Freya's dark hair and sad eyes. She pulled you to the doorway but didn't let go until you looked at her again. Her mouth moved; you couldn't hear the words through the water. You thought she might have said, "Choose wisely," but of course you couldn't be sure.

You really hated cryptic warnings.

Avalon shone with an unnatural light after the greyness of the Mortal World. Sharp-eyed falcons watched from their perches, exotically colored snakes slithered through the undergrowth, and although it had been night when you left, the sun glittered brightly, hurting your eyes.

Your brother had taken up residence in your uncle Ambrosious's castle, you supposed because it looked cheerier, and there weren't as many painful memories attached. You went around to the back door, and a servant answered. Even after you told him it was the King's sister, he was understandably suspicious, but a visit to the head steward soon set him at rights.

"The King, your brother, is not in the castle at present, Your Highness," the steward (who had served your uncle for many years before his untimely death) told you. "Would you wait?"

"I'm not here to see Gaheris," you replied. "I want to see Princess Vivian."

The golden-haired princess was in a sunlit sitting room, already entertaining another guest. To your surprise, it was the late sorceress, Nimueh. The wide-eyed witch raised a perfect dark eyebrow at your approach. You hadn't seen her since before you were Merlin's apprentice, at the battle where your father died, and weren't sure you were happy to see her now. Though she and Merlin had made an uneasy peace during the conflict because of their mutual interest in defeating Camlach, everyone knew Nimueh was just as cold-hearted as when she had died.

Vivian looked uncomfortable; she was gazing out of the window with her brow furrowed, and seemed rather relieved to see you, a sure sign that whatever Nimueh had to say, Vivian didn't want to hear it. Seeing the princess's distress, you weren't sure you wanted to burden her with your troubles, but Vivian insisted on hearing them.

When you were done, Nimueh spoke. "You see Vivian? This is exactly what I was saying. Merlin's taking over everything. He has the Druids' loyalty, Arthur's ear, Gaheris's trust, and now he's slighted Niniane. He needs to be stopped. What other evidence do you need?"

Vivian frowned. "He's done so much good, Nimueh . . ."

The sorceress snorted. "Yes, because it's profited him! Tell her, Niniane: has anything Merlin done harmed him?"

You hesitated. It was true that most of your cousin's actions benefited him in some way, but he seemed to do it with such goodwill and kindness. This you voiced, and Nimueh's mouth twisted.

"He's been known to do things that helped only him. Like killing me. If Uther had died, magic might have returned that much sooner! And what did he do? Strike me down in anger! How did that help anyone else, I ask you?"

Vivian shifted nervously. "Gaheris knows Merlin much better than I do, and-"

Nimueh leaned forward, her blue eyes shining, looking almost mad. "But you know him better than anyone, don't you Niniane? For ten years you've stood by his side. What do you think?"

It occurred to you, before you started speaking even, that any other day and you would have defended him. But the hurt and anger, however ridiculous they were (don't even bother to deny this fact), remained fresh in your mind.

"It's true," you admitted, at first carefully, but becoming increasingly angry, "that Merlin has his faults, and sometimes I wonder whether he's the best person to follow, especially recently. Did you hear what happened with him and Lot? What a temper that man has!" (I wonder what the answer would have been if someone had asked which man you meant.) "I don't know why I've stayed with him all these years, I should have known he'd cast me off eventually."

Vivian bit her lip. "But hasn't he been kind to you?"

Nimueh snorted. "Only because it was convenient, of course. Niniane was useful to him. As Camlach's daughter, she could gain control over all sorts of magical creatures."

I can? you thought.

"Besides, he didn't want her to . . . "

The two of you eyed Nimueh, who had trailed off in a tantalizing manner. "Didn't want me to what?" you demanded impatiently.

" . . . didn't want you to join his enemies," the witch finished.

For a moment, no one said anything, then Nimueh went on casually.

"I actually saw Morgana a few days ago, quite by accident, of course. She mentioned that a few of her followers had been killed in the war, and that, should I or any of my friends wish to join her, she would not turn us away."

Vivian shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You're talking treason, Nimueh," she muttered. "Join Morgana and her army?"

"Oh give me a break! Treason? Not likely. Only Niniane is technically a citizen of Avalon, and she's a princess, she can do what she likes. You, Vivian, are a guest. I'm an . . . inmate, perhaps. It would not be treason for us to do what we liked." She leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "Just think about it, girls. Vivian, what have these people ever done for you? You've been slaving away all these years, struggling at the side of a man who won't even admit to your face that he loves you, fixing hisproblems with the Unseelie Court! You've been in that land more than he has! And you, Niniane! Merlin doesn't appreciate you, doesn't see what you could become. He's shunted you to the side like a used shirt, and he expects you to just take it? You're both princesses, ladies, you deserve better than this!"

Sighing in exasperation, Vivian snapped. "Alright! Suppose we do join Morgana! How could we help her? Huh? What have we got that she doesn't already have?" Her voice had turned shrill.

The sorceress grinned. "I was a High Priestess, Your Highness," she said. "I know things. Niniane here worked by Merlin's side. She knows his secrets, his very heart. She knows how to take him down, and we all know that to bring something like Camelot to her knees, the foundation must be removed first. You, Vivian, will have unprecedented control over the entire Unseelie Court. Imagine, all those ghouls and goblins unleashed on the city! Even the great Emrys would be overwhelmed!

"Together, we can destroy Camelot. We can bring Arthur to his knees! And we can give Morgana her rightful place on the throne. Your father will have to accept you then, princess. You won't be shunted aside anymore Niniane, the other fey will hail your triumphant coming and crown you queen!" Nimueh smirked slightly. "But most of all, you can get your revenge on that upstart, Balin."

The princess and the witch waited for your answer. It was not long in coming, because anger flared in your heart.

"I'll do it."

You turned to Vivian when she sighed. "Vivian, you must understand. Arthur may be a good king, but Albion needs a ruler like Morgana! Arthur's too kind-hearted. Morgana will be stronger, fiercer!"

"And she has a vision," Nimueh cut in. "A vision of not just Albion, but all the world united under her rule! All the world united by magic. It'll be a beautiful time, Vivian. You wouldn't have to struggle with Gaheris. The two of you could just settle down somewhere, peacefully, raise a family. Do you think you'll get that here?"

Vivian bit her lip, shaking her head. "I don't know. Gary wouldn't like it. He loves Avalon, he wouldn't want to leave. And do you know what I would have to promise those Unseelie demons before they'd follow me? Probably a whole Roman legion!"

Nimueh giggled. "Only one? My dear, I could get you fifty!"

And so it was that the three of you marched back into the World of Men (there was no Freya to hold your hand this time) and told Morgana your intentions.

It was as Nimueh had said; the would-be queen of Camelot welcomed you with open arms - and a smirk worthy of the most evil temptresses!

When you next saw Merlin, to say he was unhappy about your choice is a bit of an understatement, though whether he was surprised is up for debate. You lost six inches of your beautiful red hair, and a large chunk of pride. But, you managed to throw Balin across the room, which was a wonderful accomplishment even if he did survive.

Vivian did indeed promise the Unseelie Court fifty Roman legions (on demand, no less), and they followed with almost no question. Gaheris, brokenhearted by his beloved's betrayal, struck back with a vigour that surprised even her. You figured he thought that, because he had 'failed to reform' Vivian, he might as well stop her from destroying everything. But in the end, there was only one thing he could do to stem the flow of demons: he could, as King of Avalon, forcibly recall them back into the Fairy Land, and shut the two worlds off from each other.

You're pretty sure he and Merlin had a long talk about this, because it was a drastic action, to bar all but the dead from entering and sneaky individuals from leaving. It meant that Nimueh would have to return to her death. It meant that Gaheris couldn't assist Camelot with his armies, either.

So. Rather a lose-lose situation.

When Morgana heard all of this, she almost growled. "We must have the Unseelie Court! Without them, who's to say if we can win this war? Go and stop that blasted King from closing the Gate!" She also gave the three of you a small stone. "If you need to get out of there quickly, just use this transportation stone and it'll take you to me. Now hurry!"

Your task was easier said than done, since not only was Gaheris there, but also Merlin, Balin, and the Lady of the Lake. It hit you, at that moment, that if the Gate closed, Merlin and Freya would be cut off from each other, possibly forever, since Merlin was immortal (yet another thing to resent). This thought made you slightly uncomfortable, but you ignored it.

The ritual for closing the Gates of Avalon could be found in an ancient volume of Fairy lore, written by fey, men, and dragons alike. It involved the strength of two sorcerers (one had to be a legitimate ruler of Avalon), ten candles (all of which had to stay lit for the entire spell), and a fifty-line poem that had to be memorised.

Luckily for the casters, it didn't have to be recited by one of the participating sorcerers; it is said by fairy grandmothers that the dead have long memories, and Freya's certainly was put to the test that night. You had hoped the old saying might ring false, but her soft voice rang true in the darkened clearing, echoing over the still waters in which she stood.

"We have to do something!" Nimueh hissed once Freya had reached the tenth line. "That Gate is going to close in just a few minutes, and I'm going to get sucked in!"

"Alright," you muttered. "Maybe we could take out the candles. They're essential!" You raised a hand, but Vivian pulled you back.

"No! Think! Merlin's there, and he probably knows more than we do. Do you suppose him an idiot?" Seeing your look, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. But he's probably done something to protect them."

"Do you have a better idea? She's almost done with the poem!"

The princess hesitated, and that was all Nimueh needed. Silently, she leapt out of the trees and cast a calculated curse at the Lady-

Which, of course, did not actually touch her. But it served as a marvellous distraction, and Freya lost her place with a start. Nimueh's victory was short-lived, however, when a well-placed spell knocked her head over heels. Freya gulped and started again.

You had thought that since Merlin would obviously be the other sorcerer, he wouldn't be able concentrate on much else. In fact, you had depended on it.

Well, unfortunately for you, Merlin had left himself free to obliterate all competition. He scowled at the sight of Nimueh, and then he scowled at Vivian, and then he scowled at you.

Great. This should be fun.

As I mentioned you griped about before, fairies don't have the strongest magic, and you, even as the princess of fairies, were not an exception. But you had always prided yourself in your illusions (a fairy's true strength, deception), you supposed those would have to do. Calling up all your power, you set to battle the most powerful warlock in existence.

Vivian tried to command the water in the lake, but Freya gave a little contrary cough without breaking her stride, and nipped that spell in the bud. This left her with only defensive spells against the onslaught.

Nimueh, being dead, recovered quickly from most attacks, striding forward and slashing with her hand. An invisible whip! of air came spinning out of nothingness, but Merlin blocked with barely a vague gesture. Vivian muttered, and the ground itself trembled, opening at Merlin's feet, but he didn't even deign to notice it.

You considered what could be done to bring your powerful cousin down. It shouldn't be as hard for you - hadn't you lived with him for ten years? What were his weaknesses? Freya, to be sure, but she was protected, Balin as well. Arthur was surely his greatest weakness, but the king wasn't around to threaten. Making him angry would serve only to turn him even deadlier, as Nimueh's non-existent body could have attested.

Overcome him with sheer power? Yeah . . . definitely not. Take him by surprise? Well . . . maybe.

It was worth a try. But you had to try fast, because Freya was reaching the closing stanzas. You remembered the wyverns when you were younger, and visualised them in your head; their long, lean bodies, their ugly snouts, their cold unintelligent eyes, and their bat-like wings. As you concentrated, a fuzzy image appeared in front of you, knee-high. The image sharpened to almost imperceptible clarity, and you smiled. Didn't I say illusions were a fairy's strong point? The wyverns snarled and leapt. Merlin, calmly occupied with removing a strangling vine (courtesy of Nimueh), was obviously not expecting such an attack. Your creatures passed through him, but he lost all concentration and ended up burning part of his arm instead of the plant. Vivian, seeing an opening, hooked her magic around his leg and pulled it out from under him. The vine whipped around his neck and pulled tight.

Panic squeezed your heart at the sight of him struggling on the cold ground. The wyverns, stalking around for another onslaught, flickered and died. When Vivian stepped forward to get him, you pulled her back without conscious thought, swallowing down a cry.

Freya, her words stumbling slightly with panic, gasped out the last words in the poem at the same time Merlin, turning blue, disintegrated both the plant and Nimueh's spells. Gaheris and Balin cried out the last words in the incantation.

For moment, nothing happened, and you allowed yourself the vision that maybe the spell had failed.

Nimueh screamed. Everyone jumped and looked at her. Her body grew fainter with every passing second, the crystal that allowed her to leave Avalon glowing strongly. Her very essence was being attracted to the Fairy Land.

And it wasn't just her: Freya was watching resignedly as she faded away. Even you felt a strong pull inside of you. It seemed to say 'Your home is leaving; don't you want to follow it?'

The temptation was strong, but something stopped you, something that told you your work wasn't finished here. There was still something left to do. But if you stayed on the lakeshore, surely there would be nothing to stop Avalon from pulling you into it whether you wanted to go or not. Desperately, you looked around for something to stop the drag.

Of course! Morgana's stone! Frantically, you cried, "Vivian! Use the stone and get us out of here! There's nothing we can do."

The princess fumbled pulling out the small stone, but her magic flowed easily into it, and with a spark it activated. A whirlwind started up to carry the two of you away. Nimueh's cries stopped as she left the human world behind. You felt something like relief, and a bit of sadness.

A hand latched around your wrist, physically dragging you back. With a scream, you clung closer to Vivian, and suddenly you were being pulled through space. It seemed a tight fit; like you were going someplace you weren't supposed to.

The hand tightened, and followed.

The three transportees fell with a gasp onto cold ground, and you scrambled away from the hand. It was Merlin, of course it was. Anger filled you. Could you never escape him?

Your eyes locked, and it seemed like they were answering your unspoken question: No, cousin. You will never be rid of me. Not as long as you live. Those eyes fixed you to the ground even as they glowed gold, and Vivian had to pull you out of the way to avoid his curse.

It was about this time that you realised where you were. It was the Crystal Cave.What in heaven's name is Morgana doing here? you thought crossly as you threw yourself behind a crystal growth to avoid another spell.

The witch, it appeared, had been trying to look into the crystals. Good luck with that, you thought. The only person I know who can do that successfully is Merlin, and he's in a bit of a mood right now.

Morgana let out a rather unladylike squeak as Merlin turned the full devastation of his attention on her. She threw herself out of the way just in time, and the spell got the crystals behind her instead. You found yourself unsurprised when they didn't break, not because you were certain Merlin hadn't been aiming to kill (at this point, he could have been aiming to do anything), but because, well, it was the Crystal Cave. One, even Merlin, does not simply smash it to bits. This made you feel a little bit better, because it meant he couldn't reach you behind the crystals without resorting to desperate measures.

Morgana darted out of her temporary hiding place and struck. As she went on the offence, you couldn't help envying her. As Merlin's apprentice, you hadn't learned a whole lot of offensive spells, mostly defensive and otherwise, but Morgana was a High Priestess, and therefore had the knowledge of ages at her fingertips. Her spellcasting was glorious. But would it be enough? The two counteracted, parried, ducked, drawing closer together. You realized, as the fight progressed, that Merlin was probably going to win with a combination of luck, power, and sheer ingenuity. Something had to be done.

Vivian leapt out of nowhere, shouting dramatically. It seemed over-the-top to you, but it certainly got Merlin's attention. Unfortunately, it also distracted Morgana.

Again you hesitated, for just one split second - then, you acted. You threw yourself around the side of the crystal column and shouted the strongest binding spell you could perform.

Amazingly, it worked. Merlin lost his balance as a whole cartload of chains appeared out of nowhere and wrapped around him. Immediately, his magic flared to life and the chains started to disintegrate. You didn't even think, just tackled him; Merlin may have been an all-powerful warlock, but you figured even he would have trouble incanting a difficult counter-spell if his little cousin was trying to pull his hair out by the roots. Swiftly, Morgana knelt down and started muttering over the bindings, placing spell after spell into the links, tightening them. Merlin could not fail to notice this, and if Vivian hadn't joined you in restraining him, Morgana probably wouldn't have gotten through the first sentence. As it was, you hoped Morgana was quick.

The chains seemed to flash and ripple with every word the witch spoke, sending a funny feeling down your aching spine. Merlin shuddered along with the ripples, and his struggles grew weaker. Finally, when you started to think the chains were literally killing him (though you knew that couldn't be possible, he was immortal, wasn't he?), Morgana pulled the two of you away from him. Her face was set and lined with anger.

"Let's trap this upstart warlock here," she said, her voice trembling. "So that he can't help Arthur." Morgana smiled. "I'll bet you anything Camelot wouldn't last a week without him."

"Morgana . . . " Merlin gasped. "Please, don't. Just listen to me for once. I need to tell you-"

"Silence!" the Priestess shrieked. "I do not want to hear you talk." She turned away from him. "Here's what we'll do. You two follow my lead. I know a powerful sleeping spell that should keep him in its grasp for the a couple thousand years."

A couple thousand years? you thought. Er, right. This is Merlin we're talking about, sweetheart. You'll be lucky if it lasts a week. But you nodded along with Vivian. You turned your cold eyes on your fallen cousin. You had come this far and you couldn't turn back now.

You wondered if that was what Morgana told herself every night so she could sleep.

The three of you stepped close to the panting warlock, crowding around his feet and overshadowing his face. Morgana started to speak, and you and Vivian followed her words, letting the power flow through you, fill you up like a warm mug of cider, then shiver out through your eyes and under his skin.

"Ic ingeseted ác gefeterian æt Merlin. Géars æt n nig átellan carlmann yrfebéc sl p innan ác þéostre legerbedd."

While you spoke, Merlin managed to get on his knees, but the enchantment did not take hold immediately. His eyes were sad, but resigned; he knew there was no way out. Morgana's intervention was what all of you needed: the power to stop even Merlin. Eventually he gave up any struggles, and surveyed the three of you, spread out in front of him in array. He looked tired, so very tired. He said nothing.

"Do you admit defeat?" Morgana said coldly, triumph lighting her eyes. You felt a twinge; there wasn't any need to gloat, he was already helpless.

Merlin sat up straighter and looked her square in the eye. "For now," he replied, "but know you cannot defeat that which is right forever. One day, I will return. Pray you are not alive when this happens." It didn't sound like an idle threat, either. Then, Merlin sighed. "In fact, you won't be alive, this I can assure you of."

The witch raised one perfectly skeptical eyebrow. "How can you be so certain? Have your visions told you this?"

"No, they have not. But I know it for a surety."

"How?" Vivian interrupted, her curiosity obviously overriding her scorn of the warlock.

The very air in the cave seemed to chill as Merlin spoke his next words. "I know because you will be cursed. All of you. By me, right here, right now."

The three of you blinked and glanced at each other uneasily. Merlin continued, turning to Vivian:

"Princess, you mess with forces you do not understand. Your 'friends' are still waiting for their fifty legions, and they won't leave you until you have given it to them.

"Niniane—" for a moment he wasn't able to go on, his jaw tightening. "—you were jealous of Balin when there was no need. What did you think, I would love you less because of him? You're an idiot. Did you think Morgana would bring peace to this land?" He scowled. "Good luck with that. Forever your foolishness will hang about your neck. You will never be rid of it.

"And you tell Nimueh this when you see her: when she most needs them, in her darkest hour of need, her precious spells will desert her. She will be left with only memories."

Finally, he turned to the proud witch. She looked at him scornfully, and he cocked his head to one side, considering.

"You want Arthur dead, Morgana?" he asked rhetorically. "Fine, he will die as you wish. But you will not rejoice to see it, for he will be following you out of this life. You want the throne? You will never get it. You want to be rid of him forever?" Your cousin's eyes seemed to glow in the dim light as he leaned forward threateningly. "You will never be rid of him. Mark my words, Morgana, for they will become your reality. When Arthur joins you in the Land of the Dead, he will be sleeping. I bind you to him until he wakes again. You will stand by his side as his guardian and protector against anything that might wish to harm him . . . as I did. This is my curse, and may you remember it well, because it will not depart from you until Arthur's time has come again."

Merlin lowered his head to his chest, finally giving into the enchantment, as if he hadn't just shocked Morgana to her very core. The sorceress stared in amazement for several seconds, then she sprang forward and grabbed Merlin's shoulders.

"Merlin! Take it back! How could you do this to me . . . !"

You and Vivian rushed to her side and pulled her away. Merlin fell to the ground unmoving, eyes closed, breath slow and even, face paler than you had ever seen it. Morgana didn't seem to be able to move properly. "Forever . . ." she kept on muttering, "he's doomed me forever . . . "

If one thing can be said of Merlin, it is that his threats are never idle. Morgana didn't even last a week after his cursing, and Morgause, crying out and distracted by her beloved sister's demise, fell to the same knight's blade. It surprised you that Vivian outlasted the witch-sisters, and perhaps it will surprise other hearers, especially hearing of her distress. But she actually outlasted you all. You know, of course, the circumstances of your own death. Needless to say, you never got your revenge on Balin for 'stealing your job', but he certainly got his revenge on you for 'doing something unspeakably horrible to his teacher'.

And so you died. And then Vivian fell, and with her went the knowledge of how to free the great warlock, Merlin Emrys. Not that that will matter, in the end. He's Merlin, he will find his way out of that cave.

As he said, around your neck, Niniane, hangs the weight of all your crimes. Better than Vivian, better than Nimueh, better even than Morgana, you knew what your cousin was. You knew the good and the bad. You knew the potential in his spirit. You knew all there was to know about him. And still you turned your back and went the other way.

On your head be it.

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings."

— Anaïs Nin

Yeah . . . heheh, I'm a bit of an angst-lover. But then again, who in this fanbase isn't? Because if you don't like angst . . . you are watching the wrong show, man.

So I'm going to be having a busy time next week, so I don't know when I'll have time to post next, but I'll get it up as soon as I can! But hey, more time to write! Because next time, you get a brand-new chapter that has never before been posted. I think anyway . . . :)

Until next time!