Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. However, I do own Jo. If I owned Merlin, Morgana wouldn't have summoned Lancelot from the dead, she and Merlin would have made out by now, and Nimueh wouldn't have died after the first season. Oh, and Merlin and Morgana would've had more scenes together in season four. Seriously, we go from them having eyesex in almost every episode in season three to them only having it twice in season four. Nuff said. WE NEED MORE ALCOVE SCENES!
"You are not dead. If you were dead, you'd be screaming in frustration." Jo paused, heaving. "So get the hell up, you bitch!"
She aimed a kick at Morgana's limp form, now on the floor dangerously close to the fireplace. She could only hope that none of the sparks landed on her; then she'd really be dead. Her kick was unsuccessful; it went straight through, doing nothing to rouse the black haired woman from her comatose state. It had been a shock when, while Morgana was pacing and pondering her nightmare, she suddenly collapsed, her eyes still wide open. Jo was beginning to freak out despite herself.
"The hell is going on?" she groaned. Pale sunlight began streaming in through the windows, and Morgana feebly stirred. Jo immediately looked for a way to pretend that she hadn't just been concerned for Morgana's life, and occupied herself by staring out the window, coughing inconspicuously. She sneaked a glance behind her, noticing the witch blinking blearily. She didn't seem to be able to move, and sweat covered her face.
"Can't..." she croaked faintly. She was shivering, Jo noticed, but it wasn't as though she could do anything to help. "Tired..."
"Don't you dare go to sleep," snarled Jo, her previous condescension forgotten as she crouched in front of her. "Stay awake, you failed witch. You're nothing but a sissy, letting a little something like this get you down. If you die, I will never leave you alone; I will mock you wherever you go, and I'll say that you're like Uther. In fact, you are like Uther! Just as blockheaded, stubborn, blind, ignorant, ugly-"
"Ugly?" Morgana glared at her. "You'll pay for that..."
"Fine. Just don't go to sleep."
"Bitch."
"Weakling."
"Whore."
Jo snorted and turned around, making sure that Morgana couldn't see the relief on her face.
Lancelot knew it would happen.
Merlin was limp in Percival's arms. When they had tested him for a pulse earlier, they found one, beating very faintly but steadily. Arthur had ordered them back to the horses, looking sick to his stomach. The frost had melted off of the warlock's face and his eyes had slid closed overtime, but he didn't stir. Lancelot felt as though this was somehow his fault- as though he had been the one who killed Merlin. He should have tried harder to keep him from going to collect firewood.
"We're going to take him back to Camelot," announced Arthur. "He needs Gaius."
"Sire," interjected Leon, his face grim. "We cannot abandon the quest. If the veil isn't sealed, who knows how many others will share Merlin's fate?"
"We cannot let him die!" protested Arthur.
Lancelot saw his chance; he knew that Merlin probably trusted him the most out of all of them (except perhaps for Arthur), and that he would be more capable of protecting the warlock alone. "I will take him, sire."
Arthur seemed to accept this without question, nodding gratefully in his direction; Merlin was hoisted up on his own horse, while Lancelot mounted his. He found himself wondering if Nimueh was still there with them, and if she was gloating or not. The thought made him angry; Merlin shouldn't have had to put up with the dead, as he already had enough trouble with the living.
Merlin didn't know where he was, or what was going on. He was cold- that much he knew. It was penetrating his insides, causing an unpleasant chill that clung to his bones. There was an almost roaring sound in his ears, as though someone was speaking, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. He reached out for the speaker, his hand numb.
"...why, why, I don't understand, why is this happening... someone, anyone, help-"
"Who are you?" he tried to call. It came out garbled, like he was gagged around the mouth, but it was somewhat intelligible. Whoever it was didn't really respond at first, but he could sense their fear. It was plagued with an air of familiarity, mixed with blackness.
"...I don't know..."
Those three words almost broke his heart at the sadness in them.
"...existence... blank... can they do that? Help..."
"I want to help you." He had to make them understand that he was doing everything he possibly could, to no avail. Whoever they were, they were unreachable to him. He was nearly paralyzed by cold as it was.
"Please..."
A louder, stronger voice interjected, yelling abuse at something. The connection was severed almost instantly, shattering like glass. It had always been fragile to begin with, he now realized.
A warmth began spreading through him; bit by bit, the freezing aura was driven out of his body. Now three other voices were clearer to him now: Lancelot's, speaking quietly to what he instinctively knew to be a Vilia (though how, he didn't know) and Nimueh's, who was protesting his return to consciousness.
"Not fair! He was supposed to die; no one survives the touch of the Dorocha!"
The Vilia whispered in his mind, a comforting presence.
"Sleep now, Emrys. We will watch over you."
"What?"
"She's recovering more quickly than I expected, but she was almost dead for a moment there. I don't understand why it happened; the Dorocha usually stay away from her."
Vivienne bit her lip, her white-knuckled grip on her bracelet tightening even further. Jo's face was emotionless before her, but she could tell that the young woman was concerned.
"You were powerful in life, weren't you?" she asked the blond woman. True, she herself had been a seeress, but not a very potent one. Vivienne's power had been limited at best, and in the end the things she had Seen cost her her health. Her daughter- her last living one, anyway- didn't know that, and she had no intention of ever telling her. It wasn't something that she should be worrying about, despite everything she had done.
Jo snorted. "Me? Powerful? I think lucky is the word you're looking for. Although I wouldn't really call it luck."
"Can't you do something?" pleaded Vivienne.
"I'm not some kind of goddess that you can come begging to, Vivienne," spat Jo, glaring at her. Vivienne only half understood why the girl was so very bitter, but that little detail seemed tiny in comparison to Morgana's peril. "I can't just order the Gatekeeper to tell me what's wrong. I can't interfere with the world of the living and get her some real help. The only thing I can do is hope that the man who's lusting after your daughter visits to make a report soon."
Vivienne wasn't about to give up that easily. "You do have a sort of power," she insisted. "A kind of presence. The Cailleach will respect you."
Jo was already walking away, her mind turning to finding Ygraine. "Believe me, Vivienne. The last thing I want is the attention of the Gatekeeper." She smirked at her. "Go cry on your husband's shoulder like a good wife, why don't you?"
The dark haired woman ignored the icy stab that those words sent to her heart and turned in the other direction, intent on getting as far away from Jo as possible. Anger lanced through her, and she clenched her fists, wondering defiantly why the world had to be so cruel to her family. The emotion that immediately followed was despondence; she had brought half of that cruelty on herself. By giving into a moment of weakness...
No, she told herself. Morgana is not a weakness. She's my daughter, for God's sake!
Resolve filled her as she walked, half in a trance, through the halls of the castle. Whatever it took, she would find out what was wrong with her daughter- as well as a way to correct it.
"I never liked fish," commented Nimueh.
"Yeah, well no one asked you..." muttered Merlin.
"Hmm?"
"Nothing."
"I'm sorry, Merlin," said Lancelot, shaking his head slightly in bemusement. "I do believe you, but these one-sided conversations are a bit unnerving."
The warlock stabbed another fish with a bit more force than was necessary. "If only it were one-sided."
Nimueh made as if to ruffle his hair, but only succeeding in making him feel like someone had poured water over his head (the effect was a bit too reminiscent of his encounter with the Dorocha for his liking) and making him shudder. She smirked at him.
"If you didn't have me around, then you'd really be talking to myself."
"Yes," replied Merlin, sensing a chance to strike back. "I could definitely see you doing that."
Her response was to stick her tongue out at him. He raised an eyebrow in response, before moving away from the stream and setting down their breakfast. Lancelot had already gotten a small fire going, and soon the fish were sizzling over it, skinned and cleaned by the two in record time. Merlin was impatient to get back to Arthur; Lancelot? Not so much.
"You should be going back to Camelot," insisted the knight. "You need rest."
Merlin looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to let Arthur die." Lancelot opened his mouth to argue, but Merlin cut him off. "You can't convince me, Lancelot. I am going, whether you like it or not."
"Then I'm coming with you, of course," he replied, looking resigned. "I suppose I should have known that you were more stubborn than a mule."
Merlin grinned. "Come on, Lancelot. You know me."
"Yeah, Lancelot," mimicked Nimueh. She stopped suddenly, frowning. "Wait- Lance-a-lot? There's an innuendo if I ever heard one."
Not expecting that, Merlin choked on his face, spinning to face her. "How did you get that out of his name?"
"He's good looking, isn't he?"
"What does that have to do with..." Merlin groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples again. "You know what, I don't even want to know."
Morgana glanced up when Jo promptly walked in through her door, barely sparing her a glance before idly inspecting some of her magical objects. "Good, you're alive."
The witch scoffed. "Nice to know you care."
Jo shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. Her blond hair partially shadowed her face as she looked over what appeared to be a rat's skull, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Morgana noticed that she was looking paler than usual, and wondered how that could even be possible, considering that she was a spirit.
"Feeling normal, then?"
"Well enough," answered Morgana shortly. There was something that was bothering her, however. "I'm not entirely certain what happened. Everything just suddenly felt so cold- cold from the inside, not from without. I was trapped in some kind of... sleeping state. There was... someone else there- I called out for help, they said that they wanted to, but obviously they couldn't. They were in pain as well." She looked over at Jo, who still hadn't looked her in the eye.
"Do you know what happened?"
"No." The response was short, curt. Morgana immediately sensed that the girl was in a bad mood.
"What is it? What's happened?"
Jo threw her a glare.
"Just everyone expecting me to have an answer. Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I don't know everything! Ygraine thought I would know how to save Arthur- she said that I had to talk to "a friend of Nimueh's"- whatever the hell that means- and then Vi-" she broke off suddenly.
Morgana was immediately suspicious. "Whose name were you about to say?"
"Violet. Friend of mine."
It was a quickly constructed lie, albeit a clever one, but Morgana saw through it at once. "You don't have friends- you said so yourself," she reminded Jo. "Were you about to say Vivienne? My mother?"
Jo's brown eyes were staring straight at her, as frustratingly blank as ever.
"She's at Camelot?"
"She's worried about you," admitted Jo.
"And I suppose there's something wrong with that, according to you?"
Jo cursed and turned away from her, now looking out the window and still resolutely refusing to look at the witch. Softly, venomously, she hissed, "I think we both know that you don't deserve to have anyone worried about you."
"Is that what you're telling yourself?" retorted Morgana. "You were worried. I know you were. 'Don't go to sleep, Morgana, or I'll kill you,' or something like that."
"This is not up for discussion," Jo said through gritted teeth. "Fact: you are evil. Fact: you're irrational. Fact: that you live in a hovel was your own doing, not your boyfriend's."
"He's not my-"
"Really? I don't recall mentioning any names."
"What is wrong with you?"
"I just don't understand," answered Jo coldly. "I don't understand you. I don't understand anyone. How can Gorlois forgive Vivienne? How can Ygraine just not hate anyone? How can you- you, who had a family that loved you, despite what you thought of them; you, who had a foster father (Gorlois, not Uther) that loved you more than anything; you, whose mother never once gave up on you- be like- like-"
She broke off after this, clamping her mouth tightly shut and holding Morgana's gaze. Morgana was genuinely surprised- rarely had Jo ever reacted so badly to a simple argument. The silence seemed to ring through the hut, and an understanding passed between them.
They would not speak of this again.
The knock on the door diffused the tension for good, and out of the corner of her eye Morgana saw Jo relax as she let Agravaine in. The witch regarded him in a new light, remembering Jo's opinion of him, and noticed the half-eager, half-fearful look in his eye. It took all of her self-control not to snort in his face.
"My lady," he said, and despite his obvious anxiety, Morgana gave him her best "Get on with it!" look.
"I had lowered the gates to prevent people from the lower town from taking refuge," he explained. "However, Guinevere offered an alternative plan and humiliated me in front of Arthur in the process."
Feeling an old, familiar anger stir in her at the mention of Gwen, Morgana stiffened. This fury she could use. This was nothing like the feelings of confusion and helpless rage she felt at Jo's stinging words just before.
"She's just a servant," Agravaine continued, frowning upon seeing the look on her face. "I can easily dispose of her- send her away-"
"Servant!" spat Morgana. In the corner, she thought she heard Jo mutter something similar to, "Here we go..." "I have had dreams of the future, and in it that so-called servant sits upon my throne. No, she needs to be dealt with at once."
Once the plan was lined out, Agravaine bowed his head slightly and made his exit. Morgana made a face of disgust, waiting for at least a minute until she was certain he was out of earshot before speaking to Jo.
"You were right about him."
"Of course I was," replied the blond woman breezily. "So, assassination, then? Sounds like fun."
"I thought you disapproved of me being evil. Why not just leave and save yourself the pain of watching my misdeeds?"
"I could... but then there wouldn't be anyone around to keep your ego downsized. You really are related to Arthur, aren't you? Perhaps I should get some tips from your boyfriend."
Morgana's magic lashed out at that, smashing a vase near Jo's head. Jo only laughed.
Vivienne swallowed and tried not to be sick. Shadow travel was a way to move through the spirit world faster than walking, but it was a somewhat nauseating experience (nausea being something that spirits could feel, for some reason). The towers and parapets of the Isle of the Blessed rose before her- an ominous sight if ever there was one. The day was beginning to darken, and she walked across the water easily to her destination, taking in the sight of what had once been a prosperous home for the followers of the Old Religion.
To think that Morgana had violated the laws of nature in one of the world's most sacred places... and at the encouragement of her other daughter, too.
The sight of the torn veil, and the pure anguish that she could feel through it made her shudder in anticipation. Something- not the Dorocha- was feeling pain from it. Could it be that the veil itself was alive?
"Not exactly, my child," came the quiet voice of the Gatekeeper. "But you are close."
Vivienne blinked. The Cailleach had most certainly not been standing there a moment ago.
"I know why you are here," she continued. Vivienne wondered at the Gatekeeper's ability to make her feel like a little girl again. "Speak your question."
Steeling herself, Vivienne breathed in deeply. "What have you done to my daughter?"
"It is not what I have done," replied the Cailleach. "The veil itself is exacting payment for her crime."
"She can see the dead now, I know," said Vivienne, impatiently wringing her hands. "But why did she collapse? Out of nowhere..."
"Ah," breathed the Gatekeeper. "Now you see, that is a bit of a more delicate matter."
The house where they stayed that night would have been quaint and homely, had two iced-over corpses not been the sight that greeted Merlin and Lancelot when they entered it. The knight seemed determined that Merlin not have to do anything 'strenuous', and insisted on gathering most of the firewood. Merlin himself lit the fire, hoping that it would be enough to last the two of them through the night, at least. Lancelot had already fallen asleep, but (as had been the regular occurrence since the veil was torn) the warlock was not so lucky.
"You never answered my question," said Nimueh suddenly.
Merlin frowned, glancing at Lancelot and speaking in a low voice so as not to wake him. "What question?"
"Does it bother you? Being so helpless in the face of such a grave danger."
He shifted slightly, not looking at her. "Yeah. It does." He paused. "I imagine you must've felt the same way."
He lifted his head to find Nimueh staring at him. "What are you talking about?"
"When Uther began the Great Purge," he said, "It bothered you. Watching your people die every day. 'Helpless in the face of such grave danger'. Is that why you've been pestering me so much about it? Because you wanted to make sure someone else knew your pain?"
"I can think of no one more deserving than yourself."
They lapsed into silence after that, with Merlin incapable of thinking of anything else to say. Gradually, his exhaustion from his ordeal overcame the looming fear of the Dorocha, and he let his eyelids drift closed...
...only to snap open what seemed to be a moment later to find both fires out and Lancelot up and alert.
"We've got to get out of here," he hissed, panic in his eyes. The scream came from the back of the hut, and the two (or three, if Nimueh counted) raced out the door, fleeing as quickly as they could. Merlin's mind was racing; for some reason, he was no longer as terrified as before. Thinking quickly, he shouted out the only thing he could come up with:
"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anakes!"
The half-shout, half-roar rang through the trees, almost drowning out the scream of their pursuit. Lancelot glanced at him questioningly, but Merlin just kept running, sensing Kilgharrah's intention of landing in the clearing ahead. The spirit behind them was inches from the knight when a burst of fire dispersed it entirely, followed by a second that saved Merlin. The Great Dragon snarled defiantly, and a feeling of safety came over Merlin, making him grin at the sight of his kin.
"Greetings, young warlock," said Kilgharrah, his golden eyes flicking over to Lancelot before focusing on Merlin again. "Who is your friend?"
Merlin glanced over at the knight, who raised his eyebrows at him with a "this is impressive" look and turning to bow his head to Kilgharrah.
"Lancelot."
"Ah yes," mused the dragon, giving one of his half-smiles. "Sir Lancelot, bravest of them all."
Seeing that Lancelot was sufficiently mollified by this statement, Merlin turned back to the dragon. "I can see the dead, Kilgharrah."
If the dragon had eyebrows, Merlin had no doubt that they would have shot upward by then. "That is a surprise. Something I most certainly did not foresee. Has one of the spirits been haunting you?"
"Yes..."
"What are you going to do about it?" sneered Nimueh.
Kilgharrah surprised them both by looking straight at her. She actually let out a squeak, something that made Merlin's mouth quirk in amusement.
"I would advise you not to aggravate the young warlock. If his power rendered him capable of seeing the dead when the veil was torn, then he may even have the ability to affect you in some way."
Nimueh stared back defiantly, but said nothing. Merlin was slightly impressed; it was very difficult to hold Kilgharrah's gaze for long.
"Also..." Merlin trailed off, noticing Kilgharrah's curious look. "When I was almost killed by the Dorocha, I could hear a voice calling out for help."
"Hmm." The dragon- was he frowning? It was always hard to tell- narrowed his eyes. "I'm afraid I don't know what to make of this, young warlock."
Disappointed, Merlin nodded, accepting his word. "Arthur intends to sacrifice himself."
"Then you know what must be done to stop him. But you must beware, Merlin." Merlin felt his stomach twist and a cold tingle run up his spine as the dragon repeated Nimueh's earlier words. "For Destiny may have other ideas."
"What's going to happen to her?"
Vivienne looked at Gorlois' concerned face and sighed.
"I don't know. I really don't."
Aaaaaaand we're done. For now. Next chapter will wrap up the Darkest Hour, and then we'll move on to 'The Wicked Day'. Oooh, I have some plans for that... heh. Geez, it's taking me longer than I thought it would to catch up to present time. Though to be honest, it's actually kind of stimulating for me.
Reason for the title: 'Proverb'. I think that "The darkest hour is just before the dawn" is a proverb of some kind. I know it's a saying, at least. Ack! My grammar is skewed, just like the rest of my mentality. Seriously, when I do my math homework, I somehow get the problems right, but it only makes sense to me.
I feel bad for forgetting to thank all my lovely reviewers so far! Tagrea, hillevi, Fiwen9430, Izzu, Jzaii, SunnySmile13, MightyMerlin, zombieleopard, and Mike3207. You guys are all amazing, and your feedback made my day. Also, to all my other readers, and all the people who alerted/favorited this story; I'm glad that you like it!
And what's going on with Merlin? Why did he hear a voice? Why did Morgana collapse? I must say that I'm not too subtle, really. You could probably guess. If you can't, GOOD! I don't want you to know just yet. If you're curious about Jo's history... too bad! You'll have to wait awhile for that. At least until after I catch up to the present time.
Review! Reviews are like tea. They make me feel all warm and happy inside.