Chapter Three: Fated

She had chosen the night when the moon was nearly full, to light her way to the Isle of the Blessed. She paused, standing in the meadow that she considered hers, looking at the castle, wondering if it would be her last time seeing it.

She could sense the dreams of those indeed close to her by magic, her husband and the woman she considered a sister. She felt the close presence of the only one she shared blood with, could see his familiar figure scouting the walls of the castle.

Closing her eyes, she held the image of them in her mind. She saw them all gathered together, pieces fitting into the final image of an ancient painting created so long ago. There were some still missing, but would come together in time, woven by fate.

"You do not need to do this alone."

Iris froze, her throat tightening at the soft, familiar voice, before opening her eyes to look at who stood before her.

Gaius smiled gently. He was nothing but mist and shadow, an apparition that did not bend the grass he stood on.

"Gaius," Iris rasped, her eyes filling with tears. "But how?"

"As you know, the veil between the worlds has been… opening. I am not the first one to pass back into the world of the living."

"And the other side…" Iris struggled, reaching out to only watch her fingers pass through his sleeve like smoke.

"There is peace there," he said gently, knowingly.

Iris peered at him with a smile on her wobbling lips. "Alice?"

His own smile widened, giving her her answer. But then his eyes took in the weapons she bore, the cloak draped across her shoulders and it swiftly vanished and was replaced by concern.

Iris shifted slightly, knowing he was noting the sword strapped down her spine, the daggers along her waist, the bow and arrow slung across one shoulder. She must've appeared more like an assassin than a sorceress.

Gaius held her gaze when it lifted to his again, and he noted the gold within their depths, how it danced like embers amongst the blue and the green.

"Kilgharrah blessed you again," he said. "I can see the new magic within you."

"I… I needed…," Iris trailed off again. "The sorceress Nimeuh is back and I am going to the Isle of the Blessed to meet her."

Gaius's eyes widened even as his form flickered. "Nimeuh was dangerous and ancient long before I was born. Iris, you must be careful. Where is Merlin?"

"This is not his fight," Iris said, her tone more firm as she angled her chin. "It is my duty to protect him."

Gaius, with all-seeing eyes from being from the veil, listened to her story, of the vision of Nimeuh, of the Isle and Agravaine, of the blood magicks she now held within her like a barely-tamed flame.

"I do not want to leave him," Iris finished, her eyes now on the castle and who slept within its walls. Her hand drifted to her throat, lingering on the scar there.

Gaius did not answer at first. Passing through the veil allowed him to glimpse many futures, many outcomes to what lay ahead, but all came back to one image, one he knew was forgotten, dismissed as nothing more than a strange vision. The image of the black-haired sorceress, the one that spoke of the triumph and the loss, the future that wove together with the one of the ancient sorcerer and sorceress standing before the ruin of the life they had once built.

That is the one that must come to pass, the ancient ones beyond the veil whispered. Or all shall be lost.

And being here with Iris reminded Gaius of this, of how the path before her was not a simple one, but one wrought with uncertainty and pain that he could not protect her from.

"You won't," he said softly. "He is a part of you."

"Do you think me cruel?" Iris asked, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek. "Am I foolish?"

"No," Gaius said, shaking his head.

"And if I die?" Iris looked at him, grief etched into her features. "What then?"

"Do you mean for you, or for him?"

"I am not afraid of the other side. I am not afraid of the pain I may endure to get here," she murmured, hand still on that scar. "But I am afraid of leaving him."

"I cannot tell you what the future holds," Gaius replied earnestly. "You are the one who summoned me here, with what you hold inside you."

Iris looked at her hand, as if she could see the magic flowing like blood within her veins.

"No." Gaius placed a hand over her heart, even though neither could feel the other's touch. "You are more than the magic you have, Iris."

Gaius then smiled at her. "There is still much you do not know about fate, Iris. If you feel you are alone, remember that you still carry those you may not see within your heart. They will guide you when all seems lost."

"What do you mean?"

But Gaius was already gone, like a fading beam of moonlight.

Iris looked at the castle one last time before turning away, even as her other half woke up to find her gone.

Ooo0ooO

He found Gwaine first, who was hunched by one of the burning fires that lined the castle walls. The knight was looking out into the dark, his eyes unreadable, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

When he saw Merlin, the lines around his mouth tightened. "I hoped you were with her."

Merlin paused. "You saw her leave."

Gwaine nodded. "I saw her light and I… I felt it," he said, touching the space over his heart. "This is not the first time she has left the castle at night but it's usually with you…"

Merlin looked out where Gwaine had been gazing, seeing how the fading light carved a path through the trees that lead away from Camelot.

Iris, he thought, reaching for her.

The sound of footsteps had Merlin and Gwaine turning. Morgana rushed towards them, a long cloak thrown over her nightdress as her raven-colored hair blended into the night.

When she looked at Merlin, whatever she saw in his eyes seemed to answer the question she had been carrying with her. She moved closer to the fire, the flame dancing within their depths.

"I can go after her," Morgana said. "I can fight even without my magic."

"No," Gwaine said immediately, ignoring the way Morgana narrowed her eyes at him. "I should go, I have protected her before-,"

"This is not some stray assassin she's seeking," Merlin told him. "This is a sorceress that Kilgharrah warned us about, one that was brought up with the old ways."

"I could give a damn," Gwaine growled. "She is my sister."

Morgana shivered, looking up at the sky. The clouds were covering half of the moon's face and the stars seemed to be frozen pieces of ice. There was something heavy in the air, something that pressed against her chest and made it difficult to breathe.

Her magic whispered at her, like it always had, long before she learned what it was saying. She could see the strings of fate pulling in every direction, some towards the men that stood before her, some towards the lone sorceress who was travelling to that lone island.

And she knew what needed to be done, the next step forward, because she also knew in her heart what Iris would have done if she was in her shoes.

"You must stay here," Morgana told Merlin, turning towards him. "You must stay here and protect Arthur and Gwen. If Iris has gone to confront Nimeuh, then one of us has to stay behind to make sure Camelot is protected."

Merlin stared at her. "And what of you?"

Morgana's heart started to pound like a war drum. Go. Go, it whispered to her.

"I'm going to find Mordred."

Ooo0ooO

The wind here was bitterly cold as it howled through the ruins, making the trees shake and moan. A part of him was aware of its teeth tearing at his exposed skin, but it was distant. He had not felt cold nor warmth in what felt like a millennia.

His body moved on its own accord and the small, real part of him twisted within its confides, looking for a way out, a way to be free again. But this box was so tight and it felt like he couldn't breathe even as his lungs worked within the body that was no longer his.

The brand that split his Druid mark was still tender. The acrid smell of burned flesh still lingered in his memory, placed there by that dark sorceress when they had arrived to the Isle of the Blessed. The connection it gave him to his people was severed, so he wandered blindly in this flesh prison.

The man who had done this knew of this, knew how it pained him, how it frightened him, and the man fed off of it.

So he withdrew deeper into himself, saving that last spark of power like the last coal in the fireplace. He could still see out and beyond, catching glimpses of those who would be his destruction and his salvation.

And there they were, with red and black hair, following the call of their magic along the wind. But beyond that, he could not see.

So he waited and prayed.

Ooo0ooO

Merlin stood with Arthur and Gwen, wondering how he was supposed to stay within these castle walls when the real dangers were miles and miles away, when a part of him was chasing them like a wolf chases a rabbit.

Gwen, in that quiet way of hers, knew Merlin was distracted. The half-hearted excuse of Iris being away to gather herbs was one often used, one she now saw through. Something told her there was more going on, like a storm brewing on a horizon that she could not quite see yet.

Arthur knew too, to a lesser extent. He was not worried when he heard that Iris and Morgana had gone off together, or so he was told.

The other knights had come into the hall, with reports from some of the larger, nearby villages that there was strange activity going on- livestock dying, crops withering.

Lancelot kept glancing at Merlin, who barely blinked. The knight then looked at the others in the room, who seemed on edge because of the reports or because of something else. There was something in the air- something lacking with the obvious absence of several of them.

Gwaine had also disappeared and many assumed he had gone off with Iris and Morgana as a guide and protector, although the knights knew both women were very capable of holding their own. Leon, Percival, and Elyan were exchanging looks, but like Lancelot were keeping quiet until they knew more.

But Lancelot knew more than they did already- knew the secrets that were tying him to Merlin and Iris, to Morgana and Gwaine. He had seen how the redheaded sorceress had looked over these past few weeks, with empty eyes as if that inner fire had been snuffed out. Even Morgana's beautiful face was drawn, tired, as if the old nightmares that had plagued her had returned.

And there was Merlin, who had changed so much over the years, had known so many joys and sorrows, who looked as if he was nothing more than a ghost next to Arthur.

Lancelot knew that Gwaine would be with Morgana, but if Iris had left Merlin behind to go wherever this new, unknown threat was… In all the years he had known her, the sorceress had never abandoned Merlin and something about her being gone chilled the knight to his very bones.

Gwen glanced his way, as if she could hear his thoughts. Her dark eyes assessed his, and when he shook his head slightly, she frowned and broke eye contact.

Merlin did not seem to notice any of these small exchanges happening around him. He was still burrowed deep within his mind, clawing at that connection between him and Iris, which was fruitless, since there was a barrier between him that was as impenetrable as the castle walls.

His very blood kept chanting Iris, Iris, Iris, knowing in some way she would hear him even without the bond between him.

You must stay there, Morgana told him gently, even from miles away, since Merlin was not bothering to conceal his thoughts from others that could overhear him.

Have faith in her, Morgana continued.

And how could he not? She was his everything, his equal, his soul and his heart. The thought of losing her was abhorrent, but came with the knowledge that she would find him again as he would find her, if not in this life then the next.

But he could not help but also worry, to doubt and to rage, to wonder why she had left when they had stayed together through everything else.

"I will go with the knights to investigate," Arthur was saying. "Merlin will come with us. I want you two to stay behind to guard the castle and Gwen…"

Merlin managed to get Arthur's stallion ready for him when they reached the courtyard, his heart contracting when he saw Nimbus standing in his stall, pawing the ground nervously. Merlin led the gray stallion out, stroking his neck.

"She would not want any harm to come to you," Merlin explained softly. "We do not know what to expect at the Isle."

"Merlin! Time to go," Arthur called out.

Merlin shouldered the bag he was carrying before using a step to climb up onto Nimbus's back, ignoring the questioning stare Arthur gave him when he fell into line between him and Leon.

Once they had left the castle borders, Arthur kept a steady pace next to Merlin. "Is everything all right?" he asked in a low voice.

Merlin nodded. "Iris will be back soon."

Arthur frowned. "Did you have a fight?"

"No."

"Where did she go then?"

"To gather-,"

"Herbs, yes. You would think her a gardener rather than a court physician with how often she is away picking plants."

"It is part of her duty."

"I think you and I know Iris does more than make and deliver elixirs for sore knees and backs."

Merlin glanced sharply at Arthur.

The king continued, looking out at the path before them. "I do not know what exactly the two of you get up to, but wherever there is danger, I know I can find you in the thick of it." Arthur paused. "Whatever this is, I know you and her will be there to help."

"We always will be," Merlin said, unable to read the look in Arthur's eyes.

Arthur touched the sword by his side. "Sometimes, Merlin, I wonder what my life would have been like if I had not met the two of you. But then I realize I might have been dead long ago if fate had not intervened."

The king looked at his friend. "I have faith in her, Merlin, just like I have faith in you."

Ooo0ooO

The air seemed colder here. The fog that creeped along the grass reached for her with an icy touch that had her shiver, despite her cloak, despite the fire she cupped in her hand.

She had already sought passage across the water by the boat that had no boatman, no oar nor steer. A mere whisper had sufficed to make it glide across the dark, deep water.

The ruins that stood here seemed to whisper, echoing a power that had once been a behemoth that could be felt across the lands. The stones were faded with age, etched with carvings of the old ways, the oldest languages that spoke of magic.

Iris drew her hood back, her fingertips dancing across the dagger at her side. The magic within her snarled like a wolf as another appeared before her.

Beautiful red lips curved beneath a dark red cloak, before the hood was pulled back to reveal another sorceress who appeared to be the same age as Iris, but who was infinitely older.

"Hello, Iris," Nimueh purred. "I have been waiting for you."

Ooo0ooO

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin or its characters.

Author's Note: Please review!