"Are you okay?"

Someone is pushing at her shoulder. The first thing she feels is cold and a wetness soaking into her dress. She lifts her head slightly, her eyes unfocused and blurry. Someone is hovering over her and the only thing she can make out is two blue eyes…

"Merlin?"

He is not how she remembers him, he is much, much older, a long white beard and hair adorn his face, wrinkles everywhere, and a blue robe around his body. He is different, but his eyes. Those strong powerful eyes are the same. She is suddenly confused, lost. She doesn't understand…

"Morgan? Wow, don't you age well, deary!"

She scrunches her eyes at him, her head shaking, her lip trembling. She is so…she doesn't understand.

"No, Merlin, it is me, Morgana."

"Morgana, eh? I never 'eard you use the 'a' before…but I guess I've missed much while I've been stuck here."

"What are you talking about?"

He scrunches his lips up at her.

"I thought you woulda' known that I've been stuck here for the last three hundred years. You even came by once in fact, making fun a' me for gettin' caught in 'ere…at least I think ye did…can't remember much these days, deary!"

Morgana stands up on two shaky legs, her hands bracing themselves against her knees. He is good-humored, happy. She does not understand his carefree attitude. He is trapped…well, according to him at least. It seems as if this Merlin is not all there.

"Where am I?"

"Oh, in a cave, Nimue, the wretched witch trapped me here."

"You mean Nimueh? The High Priestess?"

He gives her an odd look. Then his eyes settle back into that happy oblivion.

"No, The Lady of the Lake. I found myself besotted by her…and she trapped me here. Apparently my affections were not welcomed. I was on my way to find Arthur, the last message I received from his was a desperation for help from…you in fact."

Morgana looks at her hands. So desperate for them to explain this odd place she has been sent too. Her eyes prickle. She can tell she is not in Magi or Camelot…at least not the kingdoms that she knows. Her visions play out in front of her face suddenly, her reminder that Alvarr wants her to get something, but she does not know what, or why. She will get him nothing, she will go home and…and…she doesn't know. She doesn't even know where to begin…the queen feels so vulnerable, something she has not felt in months.

She looks down at a puddle and sees herself look back at her, a reflection, another her. This Merlin seems to think she is someone else…maybe there is another her, one that could help her. He seems to be stuck in a cave. Maybe her doppelganger could get her home. She looks to the older Merlin's hands. The lines of skin look long, each coming to a dissipating ending. The realities of life can be seen in the work of one's hands, some soft, some hard, but all tell stories of who the person was. She looks up at him with hopeful eyes.

"Do you know what has become of me? The me here?"

"Well…the last time I saw you, you were wearing a beautiful Avalon gown. You, as always, were stunning. You said you were protecting Arthur now, an atonement for your sins, if I recall correctly."

Her eyes scrunch up at his words, now she is terribly confused. She knows about Avalon…but what sins?

"Can you show me where Avalon is?"

The old man stands, his eyes the same as the man she loves. His body looks tired as he is hunched over. His face beacons to her, drawing her in. She cannot help the pull, the idea that he is right in front of her…even if he is not her king. It is as if he is Merlin but he is not. She touches his cheek. His skin feels warm under her palm. The crinkles feel soft against her hand. The creases start to change under her affection, and slowly start to smooth out. She watches his body change, and morph into the Merlin she knows. His hair short and black, his eyes sharper, his posture correct. Tears come to her eyes as she tries not to cry.

"You are not the Morgan from here, I know her…I know her more intimately than I know any other individual. She is one of the women I have loved in this world, and you are her, but you aren't her, are you?"

She shakes her head. Surprised he is so in tune suddenly. Her lips open to ask if he can get her home, out of this place, but none of those things happen. She is suddenly curious, wondering about his words, his implications of his relationship with her. Her heart beats, suddenly fearful of seeing the other 'Morgana'…but why? His fingers come up and cover hers. His other hand comes around her waist bringing her close, his face just a breath away from her. He seems strong again, like her husband. Her heart beats faster suddenly nervous, suddenly grasping that something might go wrong, but she can't help her curiosity. She realizes he knows that he has probably known from the moment he saw her. She can see his wisdom and power swirl within his irises.

"You love me in your world, do you not?" His voice is a whisper.

"I love you more than I have loved anyone else in my entire life."

He leans down and kisses her forehead.

"I hope you find your way back to me you know. I know in this world I am different, much more driven by my own means. If I were a better man I would have saved you, Morgan. I would have saved her soul. Please tell her that, Morgana."

The young queen nods, tears in her eyes. Her empathy sings, and then cries. She can feel his sadness, his regret. This man has turned from the woman he loves, the world he holds so close. His own desires have led him into a fools trap. Her heart beats faster, warning her of the danger of her decisions. She does not care. She is beyond what her emotions are telling her.

"Di a sheoladh chuig Avalon an áit aisling."

He watches as she shimmers and disappears. His eyes are pained. She came so quickly and then left. He hopes she will be with the man she loves again, he hopes in some world he can love her the way he was meant too…and he hopes that when this is all over, he can possibly sleep for the first time in years. He should have sent her home…but once again Merlin is a selfish man.

"Goodbye, Morgana Alwin, High Queen of Magi."

The magic is welcomed. It feels like the temple Merlin took her too in the north part of Magi. The building was in ruins when he brought her there. The gray was dark from years of rain beating on the stone and crumbling at the sides as pieces were found littered on the floor. She remembers the feeling of power as she dismounted Aithusa. Kilgharrah and her husband close to them as always. She recalls him bringing her to the center, he showed her how to bend the earth to her whims that day, and the power she had over the world. The memory dissolves in her mind.

She opens her eyes to a long field. The grass feels soft under her feet. The longer pieces tickle her ankles. She looks to the water. The smooth surface mimics glass. She walks over to the mass, her reflection a perfect doppelganger to her again…but her heart does not beat rapidly, as if it has accepted this fate. She can see the trees across the way. Their greens are mixing with the blue of the sky, reminding her of her connection with Merlin. Her hand clenches at her side and a sensation washes over her as her eyes bulge.

She looks down. He hadn't taken them off, he had kept them on. She brings her left hand up to her face, her beautiful wedding ring still sits on her finger, and her union bracelet is still tight around her wrist. Her legs are unsteady. Her knees dig into the dirt when they hit the ground. The sapphires wink at her, and the silk feels soft under her fingers. She suddenly feels a warm sensation overtaking her body, as if he is here, hugging her, kissing her neck, speaking words of love.

The feeling of happiness only lasts a moment before reality crashes into her soul. The look on his face as the life drained from him, the blood on his armor. She can still hear him telling her he loves her that one last time. She looks to the side, her hands coming into the dirt as she faces the water. She looks like an ugly woman as she cries. She claws at the dirt, the brown soil rushing up and under her fingernails. She feels dirty, her knees scraped up, and she can feel her blood mixing with the earth. She grinds her teeth at her reflection, she needs him here, and she wants him to be with her. She starts to shake, her head flies up and she screams as the reality of her situation flies at her like the strongest wind.

Her hands are behind her, dirt in her palms. She cries. Tears stream down her face making her look wild and lethal. Every moment replays in her mind. The wretched pomegranates that he was so obsessed with, the small pieces of jewelry or weaponry, for he knew her so well, that he left on her pillow or vanity just because. The roses…oh, the roses she woke up to every morning. His love, his deep unfaltering love that enveloped her very soul, and was shown to her in more ways than one. His trust, his loyalty and his unwavering ability to trust in her to run his kingdom, to keep his people safe. She can feel him pressed against her, his fingers pushing at her small dress, a teasing smile on his face.

She looks down, it is only her own hand, the dirt smudges on her thigh and the hem of her small dress. She falls back, her legs separating. She runs her fingers over the brand on her thigh, the earth smearing over the letters as she touches the tattoo. MA…Merlin Alwin…Merlin…Alwin…She cannot cry anymore, her eyes are simply sad as she stares at the reminder of her husband. She feels so naked, devoid of even her drawers. Her husband would love her like this. She would tease him and tell him of her lack of undergarments and he would surely take her while she was still in this small flimsy material. She shakes, and knows it will never be.

"You look sad."

Morgana's ears burn and her eyes widen. Her head turns cautiously, when she comes face to face with…herself.

"Who are you?"

The new Morgana says to the original. The young queen is scared. It is her but it isn't her. This woman is older, much older, the same age as the Merlin she met. There are lines around her face. Her hair is now a sharp silver color, streaks of white here and there. She is wearing a beautiful black dress, crystals outlining every inch, but Morgana notices the bottom is torn in places, dirt outlines the magnificent gown as if it has been on the woman's body for some time. A scarf comes up and over her hair, protecting her head. She looks so tired, so worn. Morgana stands before the other woman, a parallel to her old self.

"My name is Morgana Alwin. I am High Queen of Magi."

The older woman looks at her strangely, the older jade eyes try to flare up, remembering her old power. She scrutinizes the young woman in front of her, her eyes curious at her words.

"You mean, your name is not Morgan le Fay?"

Morgana shakes her head, her curls bouncing. The older woman looks at the sleek and silky locks remembering her own. Her hand subconsciously comes to her sharp silver hair touching the ends. She fingers the silvery strands and suddenly wishes for her long dark hair to sit on her head once again.

"No I am not. You must be Morgan le Fay. Merlin sends his regards, and an apology."

The older woman sucks in a breath, her eyes shifting over the young lass in front of her. She is so different so young, the vibration of life still pulsating under her soft ivory skin.

"You have seen Merlin?"

"Yes, he is stuck in a cave. He says a woman named… Nimue put him there?"

The older woman laughs, the sound reminding Morgana of her own. Her eyes poke out from under the hood of her scarf.

"He would get caught up in her wiles. Actually, I think I've already seen him there! Oh dear, how delightful. He was always such a simple man when it came to women, always lusting after the first pretty girl to smile at him. He is beyond predictable."

"Like you?"

She is curious to know Morgan's relationship with Merlin in this world. It feels like he is close to her, the way Morgana is to her Merlin, but it feels deeper, more intimate. Her heart beat sounds again, warning the queen.

"Merlin and I's relationship is very different than most I assure you. I assume you would like to know our story?"

Her heartbeat picks up.

"Yes please."

The thumping of her heart suddenly slows, moving back into its normal pace. She looks Morgana over, noticing the cuts on her knees, the dirt on her dress, face, and fingers.

"Well, let's get you cleaned up and healed. We have time. Follow me."

Morgana takes a deep breath, should she trust this? This woman? They are in a land she has never dreamed of, a world beyond her wildest imagination. Alvarr put her here. He has a purpose for her. She can worry about the problems later, for now she must trust this woman, she has no other choice.

Oh, you are wrong your majesty…the choice as been made.

She is clean, it feels nice. She is still drawerless but she will deal, as Merlin always put it, the breeze feels nice! Her eyes sadden again. The older woman watches the continual shift in the young Morgana's eyes. The girl is fighting a tight war within herself, keeping her composure that the elder woman knows is almost all but extinct.

"So I think that in your life you have seen as many horrors as I?"

"Probably not so, my horrors are more on a personal level, I believe you have seen death and war more than I."

Morgan starts to walk. The clicking of her heels reminds Morgana of Magi. The marble feels cold on her soles, she does not make a sound as she walks, the silence is a reminder of her loss, and of the bare vulnerability she now has. They enter a room, a beautiful coffin in the middle. It is made of glass, crystal? Morgan motions toward the coffin, Morgana's lip trembles as she slowly approaches the casket. She does not know why she is shaking, why she is scared. Her eyes move over the crystal and widen as she recognizes the occupant and she falls back.

"No!"

She falls and scoots herself back, it is too much, and she won't accept it as real. This cannot be her life, the reality of other timelines. She hits a wall, she feels winded from the blow. Her head rocks from side to side against the stone, she does not want to be her suddenly, she wants to be home. You could have been…Morgan comes up to the girl, kneeling in front of her.

"No, please no. It's not real…it's just a dream…"

Morgan rubs her arms, calming the young girl.

"Please, tell me this is not real, tell me he's not in there."

"He is, Arthur has succumbed to the eternal sleep, until the world needs him again."

Morgana cannot handle this, this world is too dreadful. She wishes to be home, to make sure her once family is safe, to see Arthur alive and well. She has already lost her husband, how can she deal with the loss of her closest family?

"The Once and Future King…Arthur…"

She briefly wonders if this will happen to her Arthur, she shakes the thought away. She hiccups as the tears burn her skin, her dreams are coming true. She does not want them to. She wants them to be figments of her imagination, frightful nightmares. She looks up at him, Arthur in a coffin. The reality feels too real for her liking. She wants this to be a dream again, she looks up at Morgan.

"Please, tell me of your life, of your relationship with Merlin and Arthur."

She wants her visions justified, the parallels to be set in stone. Maybe she could accept them better that way.

"Oh that is a story indeed, shall I give you an abridged version?"

"Give me all you can."

Morgan leads Morgana into a small room with a small table and small chairs. The room is made of windows from the ceiling to the floor. The view of Avalon is magnificent. On the small table is a teapot, and two cups, dressing for the tea and small cookies. Morgan motions for Morgana to sit. Her eyes linger at the water outside the window.

"I met Merlin years ago, I was much younger I assure you, probably around my late teens early twenty's…twenty one perhaps? I had found myself in a terrible predicament."

"What predicament was that?"

Morgan looks to the side out to the greens, the colors remind her of a time long since past. She swirls the spoon inside of her tea absentmindedly.

"I was pregnant."

Morgana closed her eyes, hoping she says something different to her next question.

"Who was the father?"

Morgan eyes her.

"Arthur, but I believe you already knew that."

He is your son Arthur!Her vision haunts her.

"I did."

"Then the rest of the story is quite boring I imagine. I gave birth to Mordred, and was an apprentice to Merlin. As my child grew so did my affections for the great sorcerer. We spent many nights tangled up in each other, loving on each other."

Morgana can feel the nostalgia flow off of Morgan at the memories, the bits of information precious to the elder woman.

"It could never be, unfortunately. Merlin is such a fleeting individual, always wanting to go off on his own adventures, I, myself, was too busy looking for revenge. As time wore on my son and I became consumed with ruling the crown, I wanted Arthur to feel as helpless as I once was in those days, battered and beaten to the ground. Merlin had taught me much in our years together, about magic and my heart." The memory saddens Morgana, she can tell they left on not so pleasant terms, the young queen closes her eyes, as if to block out the truths of this world.

"I was a sinner, I lay with my brother and the worst part is, I enjoyed it. Arthur and I were inseparable, growing up together, loving together. As we grew older our lives took on new meaning, I was no longer under his father's protection because I had a babe in my belly, and after a while I didn't even have Merlin, the man I grew to love. It is funny my relationship with these men. With Arthur it was black and white, I loved him then I hated him, then I loved him all over again. With Merlin it was always gray, he sided with Arthur mostly, but somehow we would always find ourselves in the throes of passion. Then there was Lancelot-"

"Lancelot?"

In all of her visions she never saw her old lover, well, not with her anyway. She saw the images of him and Gwen together, passion induced and powerful. In these visions she could see the love between her maid and her old love.

"Why yes, Lancelot. You know of his role in all of this do you not?"

"No, please tell me."

"I thought you would have seen it." Morgana looks down at her hands.

"My powers are weak, fragmented. I am only coming into them now. I do not have control over them the way I wish I did."

"You're lying, aren't you?"

Morgana looks startled, and then blushes.

"Partially."

"You do not wish me to know the extent of your magics?"

"No."

She does not trust this woman yet. Even with the telling of lives she cannot trust her fully, not with everything that has happened. Not with Alvarr out there…

"Very well. Anyway, yes Lancelot. He is, was, the lover of Queen Guinevere."

"Queen Guinevere?"

It feels odd to say.

"Yes, he married her years after I had left. She was one of the highest nobility. You know how these things go." Morgana's eyes widen.

"She was a noble?"

"Oh dear child, yes. Why, what is the Guinevere in your world?" Morgana's lip trembles, this world is strange indeed.

"She is my servant."

"Your what?"

"My servant and best friend."

"Well, now isn't that different…the Guinevere I know hates me for she knows of Arthur's affections towards me. The reason we never settled our dispute all these years is because…because deep down we love each other more than we love any other. It killed the queen on the inside, she loathed me, and then she loathed herself. It wasn't until Lancelot came, with his honorability, dashing good looks, charm. He besotted most of the nobility. They quickly started an affair, and even though Arthur loved me most, he still loved Guinevere. The affair killed him, deep down he knew he was as twisted as I, but I just seemed to wear the armor better."

It hurts to hear this story. Physically, Morgana can feel the bile in her throat. She is so crude with Merlin and Arthur in this world, breaking rules and over stepping boundaries. She holds her composure, her hand gripping the thin fabric of her dress, praying that she stays stone faced.

"In our defense, we did not know we were siblings until years after him getting me pregnant, finding out Uther was my father was the hardest day of my life. I think that is why my son went mad, his blood was too pure, there was not enough of others flowing through his veins." She clicks her tongue. "Anyway, Guinevere, who was having her affair but still, would not leave Arthur. Lancelot begged her to run away with him, but she refused, she would not leave being queen. In his sadness he sought me out for a tonic to ease his pain. We ended up in bed together, it killed him. Slowly his self-loathing got the better of him, and he left Camelot. Guinevere was distraught and she too left to become a nun. The years pass, the season changed. When Lancelot finally finds Guinevere again she has cut off all her hair and taken a vow of silence. He only lasts six weeks after her death, his heart never fully recovering."

The tale is sad, it is heartbreaking. All the people she loves, all those she is close with…had such terrible tales. She could never picture Guinevere in such an unholy affair. From what she has seen her maid is quite fond of the prince, a little too fond for a maid, she shakes the thought away.

"What of Arthur. Why is he in that crystal coffin?"

"Ah, yes, I seem to have gotten distracted. Arthur is in there because of my son Mordred."

"Your son?"

"Yes, as I told you, I was at odds with Arthur for years, and one of my schemes involved Mordred infiltrating Camelot himself. He was much older then, fifteen or so. He came to Arthur looking for a knighthood. My son was always more driven than I to destroy his father. He was excited with the new assignment. As time went on my relationship with him was hard, I only saw him so often. Eventually he told me the day was coming, a final battle between him and his father. It happened here, in the fields of Avalon. Arthur and his trusty sword Excalibur came."

"Excalibur?"

"Yes, a powerful weapon that Arthur released from a stone in the woods. It is beyond powerful. Rumor had it that Merlin was the one to put the sword in the stone after he received it from the Lady of the Lake." Morgana's eyes glow as the woman continues.

"As it so happened they fought, and I could only watch from the sidelines. I knew the truth, of who I should be hoping survived, but alas, my feelings changed, my reservation faltered. I knew Mordred was supposed to kill Arthur, I knew that. I should have been prepared for the sword to pierce his armor. The blood was everywhere, my son standing over his father, ready to cast the final blow, but I couldn't allow it. I had to save my brother, just one last time. I came from the shadows and blasted my son down, his body flew into the river of eternity, sinking to the bottom and dissipating. I ran to my brother, my fingers were pressed against the wound…"

This part is hard for the woman. Her breath is caught in her throat. Morgana watches as Morgan's body slowly changes, as did Merlin's. The once old morphed into a younger, more mirror like image of Morgana. Her eyes still reflected the years she has been alive, the lost moments of life.

"There was so much blood, the red stained my fingers but I did not care. I had to save him. I had to save the one man I loved more than anything. It was then the fairies came, to take his body. I helped him up, we had to leave to the mortal world first and grab his crown, his foolish crown. His body made it the castle for his damn jewelry. He made me stop one other place, the monastery. She was sleeping when we entered the room, Guinevere. He sat on her bed and she awoken. He fisted her hair. It was as if she knew. I watched them kiss, for a moment I watched my brother love another woman more than me."

Her breath gets caught again, her eyes close in sadness. The tears are hard to watch as they move down her face.

"My story is not a good one child. It is one of depression and regret. When we got back to the lake Nimue was there. She gave us a boat to cross, and I just held my brother as his life drained from him, as his world ended. He now sleeps here and I watch over him, hoping for one day he will wake. The fairy's assure me he will, but who knows for sure."

"Your story is very sad."

"It is indeed."

She stays young, her skin as luminous as Morgana's. The young queen feels as if she is looking in a mirror, her life a deep reflection of her own. The parallels of their lives are the same but different.

"You have a ring on your finger."

Morgana looks down at the band fondly.

"I am married."

"To Merlin."

It is a simple statement, but it speaks volumes of the woman's power.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"You were with him first when you came to this world. I believe it has to do with your connection. You love him, you've married him."

"He is a king and I his queen. We rule over Magi, a land I am not sure you've heard of. I was in love with Lancelot before I left, but slowly my heart came to only favor Merlin."

Her eyes water at the memory. Morgan sips her tea. She is respectful of the young woman's moment of vulnerability. She will not intrude and let her compose herself. It takes only a breath for Morgana to breathe again, the mask of composure sitting snuggly on the young woman's face. The priestess eyes her. The fate of Morgana's Merlin is not a good one.

"He is hurt…"

"Dead, I believe. I saw him get stabbed in the stomach before I left."

Morgan looks down.

"That is how I found Arthur. It is a cruel and horrific way to die."

The queen does not cry. She is strong, powerful. She looks towards Morgan, determination in her eyes. She must tell this woman everything. She must learn what she knows. It seems as if Morgan has more knowledge of Morgana then she realized, both women putting together pieces of visions, fragments of realities, and finding the source of their connection.

"This man Alvarr told me I must get something for him but I do not know what, I do not know what he wants from me."

"It is something you have already found."

Morgana turns, horrified. Morgan stands with her hand out, eyes gold. She will not tolerate intrusion.

"Who is this?" Morgan demanded.

"Enough now Morgan, Morgana has to go get her second prize for me."

"Tabhair dom an áit an bháis,

A thabhairt di 's anall chugam,

Leis an íobairt a dhéanamh,

Tá mé a thabhairt duit an eochair."

She feels her body fall, the sweeping of the vortex consuming the young queen again. Her eyes looked up and connected with Morgan's. The last thing she sees is Alvarr standing right behind the woman.

Fin.

AHHH so yea I know you were all upset the last chapter...but don't fret! Things will make sense over time I promise...as you can see with this chapter it is based HEAVILY on the Arthurian Legend, obviously I took some liberties myself and made it my own a bit:) Also, has anyone figured out what Morgana's supposed to be gathering for Alvarr? Virtual cookies to who has figured it outtttt;)

AH! So many beautiful reviews last chapter, keep em comin! The quicker I get em the quicker I update! Honestly...when I wake up with 9 emails and all of them are reviews I'm like 'dang it now I wanna update!' You guys ROCK!

Thanks again for reading!