Conflicting Allegiances

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Disclaimer: I still don't own 'Merlin'.

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The warlock gasped – the swift intake of breath the only sound made as he crumpled to the ground. He raised his head a fraction, looking up at the woman smirking cruelly down at him.

"Morgana", he croaked, staring up at the Lady who had once been so kind and beautiful. Now, her face was twisted into an ugly sneer as she stared down at him with the utmost contempt. Her dark hair, once so soft and carefully styled, was now tangled and messy, with small twigs and pieces of string twisted up in the knots. "Why are you doing this?" The witch bit her lip, smiling at him wickedly.

"Why, Merlin, surely you know?" Her smile widened. "I seek what is rightfully mine. I seek the thr-"

"The throne belongs to Arthur", the servant forced out through gritted teeth. "He is a great King, and one day he will unite these lands and all of their people."

"Come now, surely you don't believe that", Morgana said scornfully, grabbing the scrawny man by the chin and forcing him to look at her. "After how he's treated my kind?"

"He is not your father, Morgana", Merlin reminded her, staring unflinchingly into the cold, slightly manic green eyes.

"You think I don't know who he is? You think his rule is any different than Uther's for those of us with magic?" She flung the servant away from her, and he thudded to the ground once more. "Arthur has persecuted my kind just like his father before him!"

"And you have waged war upon Camelot!" Merlin raised his head, looking up into the face of the woman who had once been one of his closest friends. The woman who was now Camelot's greatest enemy. "How can you expect Arthur to ever believe that magic can be used for good if all you use it for is to cause death and destruction? How will he grow to accept magic-users if all he has ever seen magic to be used for is to cause pain?"

"You seem to have given this an awful lot of thought", Morgana sneered, looking down at him as though he were an insect – one which she would take great pleasure in squashing.

"And you seem to have not thought this through", Merlin replied quietly. She stared at him, too angry – too shocked – to speak. Her own allies did not dare to speak their minds to her, and yet here was her foolish half-brother's servant, acting for all the world as though she were the one cowering on the cold stone floor while he stood above her – as though she were somebody to be pitied, not feared.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked again, still regarding her with that unexplainable expression of sadness and pity. "Why turn your back on your family, your friends?" Morgana's expression became even colder than before.

"In case you don't remember, one of those friends tried to poison me", she spat, turning away. She took a deep breath, breasts straining against the tight black fabric of her dress, and willed herself to remain calm. She had sworn to herself that she would not be hasty. She knew that Merlin was extremely dedicated to Arthur. She knew that her chances of getting him to talk were slim. But she also knew that her brother cared for his servant. Even if Merlin wouldn't talk, Arthur would come after him. Of that she had no doubt. And when he did, she would be ready for him. But for now, it would be… prudent… to ensure that the servant could not make any hasty attempts to escape.

She pivoted to face him, silver knife flashing through the air. Merlin gasped in pain as the blade pierced his stomach, waves of pain spreading throughout his body like ripples on the surface of a lake. She gave the knife a vicious twist, driving it further into his stomach before wrenching it out again, the silvery metal now glinting dully with the metallic red of his blood.

"Arthur", Merlin choked out. He drew in a single, rattling breath, then slumped to the ground, unconscious.

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How was it? I was thinking of making this into a multi-chapter story if it gets any interest. Please review to let me know what you thought!