Chapter Five: Molten

Morgana could sense the waves of magic now coming from miles away, the sudden change in direction jarring her bones. Even Gwaine seemed to sense it as his hand went for the hidden dagger strapped to his hip on instinct.

But she did not allow her attention to turn away from the small, hunched figure before her. Not even when her magic whispered, telling her to run from the dark eyes that gleamed at her, telling her to go to the battle that was surely unfolding.

"Hello, Mordred," she said softly.

"The Druid boy is not here, my darling Morgana," the dark lord said through lips that weren't his.

Morgana's eyes became expressionless as they met his gaze. She blinked once, as if in disinterest, before she continued. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to get here," she told him. "I'm sorry if you have been frightened."

Deep within, tucked away, the Druid boy heard her and understood her unspoken words. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get here- no, she did not mean physically. But magically.

And there was the knight, whose face was so similar to the other sorceress's, even as his coloring was dark to her flame. He watched Mordred's every breath, every movement, and the Druid knew he would strike him down if he made one wrong move.

Even though he could not speak, could not wield his magic, Mordred still had his mind and his wits. He was not afraid- not of the lord whose greed blinded him, not of the wicked sorceress who reeked of death.

So Mordred told Morgana exactly what to do, mind to mind. When he was done, she did not so much as move or breathe.

Agravaine, unaware of anything, sneered at her. "As pleasant as this reunion has been, we might be away now."

Gwaine lunged as Mordred rose to his feet, ready to shove Morgana behind him as he lifted his sword, but by the time he finished moving, the boy had disappeared.

As if he had not been there at all.

Ooo0ooO

Her fire was a song his soul knew; her magic was the beginning to his end.

His magic called to hers, a siren's song across the ages that beckoned her home; his soul was the link that tethered her to the burning earth.

The winds that swept across the land did not touch him, did not scorch the trees or the flowers or the tender budding roots. The magic did not hesitate in the presence of the Once and Future King, but rather seemed to forge itself into a weapon to defend.

Merlin was vaguely grateful that Arthur was not looking at him, but rather at Nimueh, because his eyes were copper, molten and unyielding, as magic called to magic.

The black magic that arched from the sorceress's fingers seemed to crumble in the wind, falling away like ash.

Somewhere far away, Merlin thought, This is what she now wields?

And a voice whispered through the chaos, both young and old, wicked and fair, This is your truest potential. You have the power to bring the world to its knees.

Arthur tensed, ready to banish his sword, but a lone figure emerged from the trees.

Silence swept in as quickly as the flaming winds, which seemed to breathe one last time before disappearing due to its wielder's presence.

Merlin's heart hammered, magic coursing through his body like adrenaline, as he watched his wife approach them as if she had been out for a stroll and had stumbled upon them. Her eyes, blue and green and flecked with gold, betrayed nothing.

Horror gripped his heart as Arthur turned his sword away from Nimueh and instead aimed it at Iris.

Merlin suddenly knew he had to act, had to do something before Nimueh could speak and expose them both. This was the line and they had toed it for years, but this was the closest they had ever been to being caught.

And he knew, with a shadow of doubt, that Iris would take the fall long before she allowed anything to happen to him.

His power shifted along his skin, as if it was aware of the threat, as if it were a snake ready to strike.

That voice came again, whispering, It is yours to use. Do not fear it- it is a part of you.

Merlin would think back to that later- years later. Why he had never shown his true potential, why he never dived deep into the endless well of power that was right beneath the surface.

But now was not the time to wonder about such things.

Merlin lifted a hand, his eyes burning once more, as his golden magic struck Nimueh directly in the chest, sending the sorceress stumbling.

Banish, he mouthed as he began the spell, not daring to even breathe them aloud.

Something cracked, like a lightning bolt, and the air cleaved open behind Nimueh. Within the fold, an image of the Isle of the Blessed rippled like a mirage. And with a final shove, he casted her away across the lands, just as quickly as she had appeared.

A sharp twist of his wrist had the tear across the lands disappearing, then the aftershock rippled out. The lock had been turned, so no one may open these tears and walk through the air or under the earth again.

His hand was still trembling as he lowered it, sweat trickling down his brow. He then looked at Iris, who was staring at him.

An understanding passed between them- how one lock may have been turned, but another had been opened, deep within him. The rocks on the ground were still vibrating from the tremors.

Then their gazes turned to Arthur, who was still staring at Iris with suspicious blue eyes, his hand steady as he kept his sword aimed at her heart.

Ooo0ooO

Morgana and Gwaine arrived back at the castle nearly a day later, when the sun was setting. The sky was stained red and purple, as vivid as a bruise or an evil eye.

They immediately noticed the silence that seemed to encompass everything, even down to the stones. Gwaine looked up, marking the guards on duty, noting they were not any in Arthur's immediate circle.

Morgana clenched his hand, trying to banish the dread that creeped along her bones like ice. She reached out with her mind, tracking each mind she touched, until she found who she was looking for. Then true fear had her recoiling back into her body.

She barely breathed, "Oh no," before launching into a sprint with Gwaine on her heels.

She barely heard Gwaine's sharp gasp when he realized she was not running towards the physician's quarters, but down into the dungeons.

Morgana threw open the thick wood and irons doors, nearly slipping on the damp stone stairs that descended deep into the heart of the castle. When she saw the rows of iron rooms, the crowned King who was standing before one of those rusted doors, her heart all but stopped.

"Arthur, what the hell is going on?" Morgana demanded, her voice surprisingly firm and sharp despite her shaking hands.

Arthur turned, his eyes cold and vacant, his handsome features frozen as if they were carved from stone. "I came to see if she would talk," he said quietly.

Gwaine surged forward, eyes blazing. "Why the hell is my sister in that cell?"

Iris, who remained quiet until now, softly murmured, "The king has accused me of using magic."

Ooo0ooO

Merlin stared at the wall in front of him, unsure if he was breathing. His thoughts circled again and again around the image of Iris emerging from those trees, Iris emerging from the flames like some primordial god, her magic a beacon that none could ignore.

How would she survive now? How would she escape the fate she brought down on herself the moment she stepped into that meadow?

Merlin's fists clenched. She had known, known what would happen if she revealed herself like that. Even if Arthur had not truly seen her wield those flaming winds, even if he doubted himself, he would not hesitate to get those answers.

And with Nimueh banished back to that cold, distant island… there was nothing to distract Arthur from seizing Iris, dragging her back to the castle and demanding she be clapped in irons and placed into the dungeons until he got those answers.

It was a dangerous game they had been playing and part of him had denied the thought of their secret being discovered. They had been too clever, too quick, but now…

Now everything was changing, unfurling like a banner.

Dread pooled in Merlin's stomach, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Arthur had not even glanced at him since he grabbed Iris in the meadow, had not breathed a word to him.

And that had been her hope, Merlin knew. Distract from him, because she still thought she was not a pivotal player in all of this.

You and Arthur must survive, was what she repeated, time and again, over the years.

Never her.

So Merlin closed his eyes, leaning against the wall in the physician's quarters, and tried not to count down the minutes, tried not to think about what could happen within the next few hours or days.

Ooo0ooO

The dungeons were cold and empty- had been for years. When Arthur became King, the dungeons that were once full of people accused of magic were emptied.

Iris swallowed back a bitter laugh at the irony.

Her eyes studied the bars of her cage, the stone walls that were seeping with mold. One touch from her could melt that iron, crumble those walls.

But she withdrew her magic deep within herself, so deep she could barely sense it flickering within her, like a dying ember.

Instead she listened to the scuttling noises of the rats, the dripping of water from a crack in the ceiling. She listened to the distant humming of people moving about the castle far above her, unaware that she sat in the cold and the damp.

Morgana and Gwaine had been ushered away from Arthur hours ago. The only flicker of fear she had felt since being in here was when she saw the way Gwaine's hand drifted to his sword when he saw her inside the cell. Only a sharp word from Morgana pulled him back from that edge, trembling with rage.

Iris closed her eyes. She could still feel him nearby, still shimmering with anger. She imagined he was pacing outside the main doors that lead down into the dungeons, swearing under his breath.

She imagined Morgana yelling at Arthur, her green eyes searing into his blue ones as she demanded him to release her at once. She imagined Gwen in the room, with her hand against her throat, eyes wide with disbelief.

And Merlin… well, Iris did not have to imagine what he was doing. She knew, even without magic, that he was in the physician's quarters, thinking about her as she thought about him.

So she allowed some of her magic to rise up, to make its way through the stone halls until it found him. And in her mind, she felt it curl against him.

Merlin opened his eyes when he felt her. His lips twitched before his expression became somber again.

What are we going to do, Iris?

Wait and see what happens.

And what if…?

Iris merely sent her love and warmth to him in response.

Ooo0ooO

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

Author's Note: Please review!