A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you all came safely into the new year.

Thank you for all your follows, likes and reviews for this story. They really mean a lot to me.

If you've noticed, I've changed the resume of the story a little, because as I'm coming further into this story, I realize some of it's focus and plots slowly changes.

Don't worry, this was a methur story from the beginning and that will never change ;)

I really hope you like this new chapter, as the plot thickens.

Enjoy! ;)

Chapter 8

Morgan opened the cigarette pack he'd just bought and took out a single cigarette, stepping out of the seven eleven.

"Morgan Emerson?" A voice spoke up behind Morgan, making him turn around. He noticed the male figure and the outstretched hand, before a hard blow hit him, throwing him several meters back. Morgan let out a pained grunt as he slammed into a cold brick wall. He barely had time to recover, before another force dragged him over the ground, into a dark alley, back against a dumpster and away from the public street.

"What the…" Morgan mumbled head spinning and body aching, as he tried regaining his focus.

"We're really sorry about this." The same voice from before spoke, followed by the sound of steps.

"Considering who you are, we really don't want to do this." Another voice, a female, said regret evident in her tone.

"But there is no other option."

In the dim lights from the street, Morgan was finally able to make out two people, standing above him. Both mature adults, dressed in dark blue coats and black trousers. His eyes landed on their outstretched hands and the silver ring on their index finger. The dragon crest looked familiar to him, however he couldn't make out why.

"Do we really have to, Landon?" The woman then asked, glancing to the man next to her, "I mean, it's really him! If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't even-"

"You saw the prophecy, Agnes!" The man, called Landon interrupted, voice strained, "We have to. If we don't…" Landon closed his eyes and looked away, face twisted in regret, "This needs to be done."

"Who… who are you?" Morgan asked and struggled to sit up, learning his body against the dumpster. He felt something warm run down his temple and winched, feeling the pain as he touched it.

The woman, Agnes, walked up to Morgan and kneeled down in front of him. She turned her hand and Morgan pulled back a little in surprise, when a light flame suddenly erupted in her palm.

"We're family." She said gently, and brown eyes furrowed in concern and regret, "Which is why we'll do it quick and painless."

"What…?" Morgan blurted out, not understanding who or what the woman was saying. Landon stepped up next to Agnes and looked down at Morgan. For a long moment he just looked at him, his face unreadable.

"Fate is cruel indeed." He then said quietly, "There's an old prophecy from the Disir, foretelling the rebirth of our founder and master. However, his return will be followed by destruction of cities and the victory of the Dark High Priestess."

"The world in the hands of dark magic." Agnes said, voice low and shaking. Landon put a hand on her shoulder in support, "And we would have lost the war." She breathed out before continuing, "What you started 1500 years ago, to keep the world safe from the cruelties of those who practice the dark arts, would have been for naught."

Morgan then realized what the two were talking about and stumbled on his legs, standing up.

"No." He said, shaking his head, "I'm not. I know who you think I am, but I'm not." He insisted, as Agnes stood up with Landon's help, "I already told you people, you have the wrong guy and I don't want to be a part of your war or whatever."

Agnes and Landon looked at each other.

"He doesn't remember." Agnes said surprised and gave Landon a puzzled look, "If he doesn't remember, then maybe we won't have to-"

"No, Agnes." Landon interrupted her sternly, cutting her off with a look, "It doesn't change anything, if she gets to him, which she will, if we don't end it here."

"But he doesn't know." Agnes continued, her voice pleading, "He won't understand why."

"Maybe that's for the best." Landon said, his voice indicating that that was the end of the discussion and reached inside his blue jacket.

The blade of the silver dagger reflected in the dim light. Morgan's eyes widened, and he felt cold shivers down his spine, realizing that these two wouldn't believe him, not matter how much he tried to tell them, that they defiantly had the wrong guy. For some reason, they were hell bend on killing him. He stepped back along the dumpster, trying to back away from the two, however Morgan had barely moved, before Agnes was right in front of him, warm fingers gently caressing his cheek. She hushed him and mumbled a few words, giving him a genuinely sad smile.

"I'm truly sorry." She whispered, meeting his eyes. Morgan wanted to run, kick, scream – anything really to get away, but found himself unable to move the slightest. It was as if he was chained to the spot, unable to stop or avoid what he knew was about to happen.

"I have so many questions." Agnes continued as she caressed him gently, "So much I wanted to talk to you about." She let out a heavy, shaky breath and a small tear glistered in the corner of her eyes, "No little girl ever dreams about growing up and having to end the life of her greatest hero."

Morgan gasped.

He felt the cold blade pierce his skin.

He felt the warm blood soaking his shirt.

He felt the energy leave him, saw the black spots in his sight.

He saw the regretful and sad faces of Agnes and Landon.

Looking down, he saw the dagger plunged into his stomach.

However, Morgan felt no pain.

He stared at the two confused.

Agnes leaned forward and kissed Morgan's forehead.

"Sleep well, my dear hero." She whispered, before his legs gave away under him.

(...)

Arthur stormed into his father's office at 10th Downing street, ignoring the guards and personnel, trying to stop him.

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't go in there." The guard in front of the office said, stopping Arthur, "Your father is in the middle of an important meeting, sir."

Arthur glared at the guard and pushed him away from the door.

"Good." He sneered and walked in.

Prime Minister Pence looked up from his seat at the end of a long table, when his son stormed in unannounced.

"Arthur?" He asked confused. Arthur immediately felt all the eyes on him. His father had been in an important meeting indeed, it seemed, as all ministers and influential people was gathered around the table.

"We're in the middle of something here." The Prime Minister pointed out and nodded at the people around him, "Whatever it is, it will have to wait." He said and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, before turning his attention back to the papers in front of him. Arthur knew his father's gesture all too well, having been on the receiving end of it multiple times throughout his childhood and youth.

In stead of covering back and obey his father's order, as he had done in the past, Arthur took a deep breath and stepped forward, slamming his hand into the table.

"No." He said firmly and met the Prime Minister's look as he glanced back up in surprise and mild confusion.

"You will not dismiss this, Prime minister Pence." Arthur said formally and looked at the other people around the table, "You cannot continue this madness. Forcing people from the safety of their homes in a time like this, raising taxes and cutting ties with important allies."

Minister Pence looked up at his son.

"How do you know about this?" He asked and stood up, "That is still confidential information." Arthur huffed and stood back a little, crossing his arms.

"What is?" He asked defiantly, "The fact that Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland has had enough of your cowardice?" Arthur suggested, "Well, they're not the only ones!"

The Prime Minister was in front of his son within the next minute, standing on his toes and staring straight at his son, with a stern look in his eyes.

"Do not talk to you father like that boy." He hissed angrily. Arthur merely returned the look, feeling the anger and frustration return as he realized how much more his father cared about reputation and pride, rather than what went on with the people.

"It is a ruler's sacred duty to protect, provide and care for his people." Arthur sneered back, "All of them, despite income and status. Their wellbeing should be a ruler's top priority." He took a step closer to his father and held up a pointed finger, "A good relationship with allies are important and should be fought for to keep."

The Prime Minister looked at his son for another quiet minute, then he huffed and stepped back.

"If you think it that simple, then maybe you should go into politics, huh?" He said with a twisted grin and turned away, to return to his seat.

"Well then, maybe I will." Arthur replied stubbornly, making his father stop and turn back to look at him, "I will not let you destroy what I fought so hard to build."

(...)

Morgan stumbled up the few stairs to the front door. He felt completely out of place in this neighborhood and had gotten several looks from people on his way here, however, at this point, he hadn't been able to care about it. He collapsed against the door and winced in pain as he slid down. Morgan dared to move his hand and look down at the blood-soaked part of his shirt.

He had woken up to find himself in the dark alley an hour ago, dagger still imbedded in his stomach, the pain having appeared tenfold and wondering how he was still alive. At any rate, he should have bleed to dead already and yet, here he was, outside a friend's door, about to knock and ask for help, because he didn't trust people enough to go to at hospital.

Morgan reached up and knocked hard on the door behind him. It was still early and only a few people were up already. He knocked again. Harder this time, knowing that his friend was most likely not one of the early birds.

When the door finally opened, Morgan fell back, losing his support from the door and gasped in pain as his head hit the wooden floor of the entrance hall. Looking up, he found a young man standing above him, giving him an utterly confused and slightly alarmed look. Morgan sighed and rolled on his side, to get up, with some difficulty.

"You must be Caleb." Morgan said clutching his bloody stomach as he stumbled on his feet. The man rose a brow and looked Morgan over.

"Yes… and who are you?"

Morgan chuckled and took a wobbly step back. It was just his luck, that it was his friend's husband who opened the door.

"I'm Elyse' brother." Morgan said, finding it harder to breathe by the minute, as the black dots in his sight returned.

"Brother?" Caleb asked in disbelieve, "She's never mentioned a brother and you don't exactly look-"

"Oh my gosh, Morgan!"

Morgan smiled, the voice sounding as sweet music in his ears, before he collapsed, once again giving into the pressing darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, Morgan found himself in a soft and warm bed and the sound of voices in the next room.

"He can not stay here, Elyse." Caleb's hushed voice sounded through the thin wall.

"What are you talking about? Of cause he can, Caleb, Morgan is family!"

Morgan smiled to himself, listening to Elyse defending him, however he knew Caleb was right. Maybe it had been a mistake to show up here suddenly, however Morgan had no idea where else to go. His first thought had been Arthur, he had wanted to see Arthur. However, he then realized, he had no idea where Arthur lived and showing up at the police station was an absolute no go. Morgan had spent enough time in police custody to last a life time.

No, Elyse' place had seemed like the best option, as both her and her husband were medical students as well, and as such, would be able to help him with the wound.

"How you are still alive, is a mystery to me." Elyse said as she walked into the room, a bowl of water and fresh bandages in hand. Morgan sat up in the bed and moved a little as she sat down on the edge and looked at him.

"I nearly lost you yesterday." She then said and gave him a serious and worried look, "Why?"

Morgan pulled up his legs and let out a long sigh.

"I don't know." He admitted, "These two people suddenly showed up and for some reason, they wanted me dead."

"What!?" Elyse exclaimed and stood up, face outraged, "Dead?! Why?!" Then she paused and gave Morgan a suspicious look, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Morgan replied defensively and looked at her incredulously, "I swear, I have no idea who they were. They just came out of nowhere!"

Elyse sighed and dropped back on the bed.

"What's going on, Morgan?" She then asked, voice quiet and serious as she looked at him worried, "I've had this feeling the last few times we've met; there's something you're not telling."

Morgan pulled his legs closer and rested his forehead against his knees, avoiding looking at his friend.

"I don't know." He said quietly, "I honestly have no idea." He paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should just come out and tell Elyse everything.

It was becoming too much.

Morgan felt that the attempt on his life was the last straw and now he just wanted to let it all go. He was sick and tired of all the unanswered questions, the people telling him who he was, not to mention the things he seemed to make happen and yet had no control over. Then there was Foyle and the pure chaos he felt inside, matching the chaos he saw around him.

All this would make any man go mad.

"Have you ever heard the legend of Merlin?" Morgan then asked and finally looked up at his friend. Elyse gave him a puzzled look, then nodded and smiled.

"Of cause." She said gently, "The legend of the great warlock Merlin and King Arthur – the Once and Future king. Every child in Britain grow up with those stories." She crooked her head looked at him questingly.

"It is said that King Arthur will rise again, right?" Morgan asked. Elyse nodded again.

"When Britain is in a time of need."

"Do you think it's the same for Merlin?" Morgan asked after a moment," Do you think he'll rise again too?"

"Maybe. Unless he never died and has been wandering the earth, waiting for Arthur to return. He is said to be the most powerful sorcerer ever and some think him immortal." Elyse pointed out, "The legends are a bit unclear about Merlin, after Arthur's death at Camlann. Why the sudden interest in children's stories?"

Morgan bit his lip. He had no idea how Elyse would react to his thoughts and worries. Would she laugh at him and brush it off or think about it seriously?

"These people, the ones who tried to kill me, and this other guy, they all seem to think that I'm…" Morgan paused and took in a deep breath, "That I'm Merlin." He breathed out and glanced at hesitantly at Elyse, "On top of that, I've done things happen. Things that shouldn't be possible."

A silence followed Morgan's words, as Elyse just stared at him for a long moment, her face unreadable.

Then a chuckle suddenly burst over her lips and she shook her head grinning widely.

"Sorry Morgan." She said, trying to hold back her chuckles, "I'm not laughing at you." Elyse told him, earning a look from Morgan, "It's just, it would kinda explain a lot and how cool would it be, if my brother was the legendary warlock reborn?"

"What do you mean, 'it would explain a lot'?" Morgan asked with a small huff, feeling just a tad miffed at Elyse' reaction.

Elyse continued to shake her head and smile widely as she put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," She said honestly, "It just makes sense, somehow. In all the years I've known you, I've had a feeling that there was something different about you. Something special. You being the most powerful warlock reborn, would fall under the category 'special'." She pointed out and winked at him.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Morgan asked and gave his friend a puzzled look, "I'm literally freaking out at the mere thought."

Elyse watched him for a quiet moment, the gentle smile never leaving her lips.

"Because I know you." She said softly, "And I trust you. Despite everything, you're one of the most loving and noble people I know. I know that what ever it means and brings, you'll do what is right."

Morgan felt a knot in his throat and tears watering his eyes at Elyse' words and pulled her in for a hug.

"Thank you." He whispered softly, "You have no idea what that means to me."

Elyse returned and deepened the hug and they fell into a comfortable silence.

"Does this mean I should start calling you Merlin?" Elyse asked with a hint of humor, "Or do you maybe prefer Emrys?"

Morgan let out a heartfelt laugh and pulled back, meeting his friend's playful look.

"No, that's defiantly too weird."

(...)

The old castle was shrouded in darkness and it was silent as the grave. Every small bird and animal fled or hiding away in their hollows. It appeared abandoned and forgotten, when the long lights and sound of a single car broke the darkness.

There was a hard knock on the door and a table lamp was lit in the dark room. With an annoyed sigh, she got up from the arm chair and headed for the hall.

She pulled the heavy wooden door open and leaned against it's frame and crossed her arms, giving the person on the other side a dull look.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She asked, not hiding her annoyance and impatience. The man looked back at her, not the slightest apologetic about having disturbed her in the middle of the night.

"Knowing you, you'd still be awake." He replied indifferently with a shrug. She huffed and turned, leaving the door open for him to follow.

"I may not sleep yet, but I do like to meditate during this time." She pointed out and headed for the castle office, "Why are you here, Morven?"

"He still refuses." Morven answered and followed the woman, closing the office door behind them. He made a face in withheld disgust, as his eyes landed on the man sitting in the chair behind the desk. Skin white as a sheet and eyes hollow, staring into nothing. He sat there, unmoving and frozen in time, something he had done for the past years and yet, Morven never seemed to get used to him. He shivered and turned his attention to the woman, standing by the dimly lit terrarium. A black tarantula moved its long legs over her bare arm as she whispered to it affectionally. A quiet moment went by like this, before she looked up and one green along with one blue eye stared at him.

"I'm asking once again;" She said and closed her eyes with a tired sigh, "Why are you here, Morven? Or should I ask; why are you here, alone?"

"My lady?" Morven questioned confused. She was inches from him in the next second and he felt the tingling sensation of small legs crawling up his arms under clothes and moving dangerously close to the spot on his neck.

"I thought I told you," She hissed close to his ear, "very specifically, I might add, what to do if he still wouldn't cooperate."

"My lady-"Morven began, but was cut off as his throat suddenly tightened, making it hard to breath and felt the small legs, settling at the back of his neck.

"Do you want me to take it away from you, Morven?" She asked, her voice dangerously low. Morven glanced at the man behind the desk shortly, before shaking his head, unable to gather enough air to utter a word.

"Then I suggest you do as you're told." She spat and took a step back. Morven let out a sigh of relief, as he felt the hold on him disappear along with the crawling legs on his neck.

"Yes, my lady." He said, having regained his voice and bowed deeply, "I'll get to it right away."

A/N: That was it for now and I'm a little curious, what do you think about this character at the end, who pops up every now and then? Also, should I put up a warning for aracnophobia or is it okay?

I always love hearing from you :)