Author's Notes: I'm sorry this is a shorter chapter, but it seemed the best place to cut the story at this point.

This chapter is mostly Merlin and Arthur, so I hope you enjoy, though there is a small part at the end which suggests there could be treachery afoot.

Once again, I do not own Merlin and have only borrowed the characters for my enjoyment and yours, I hope. Thank you for following and favouriting and for writing reviews.

Chapter Twelve

Conversations In The Night

The castle had settled down for the night when Arthur opened Merlin's door and slipped inside. He found his friend seated by a small fire with another comfortable chair opposite him, just waiting for Arthur.

Merlin lifted a jug of wine. "I'm sorry it's watered, but I felt we should keep our minds as clear as possible."

"Fine by me," Arthur offered, sitting down and stretching his booted feet toward the fire. "Is Morgana still under guard?" he asked, quickly getting to the point.

"Yes, and Iseldir cast a spell which has removed her magic. It won't last forever, but it should keep her out of commission for a day or so, then the spell can be recast." Merlin, not standing on ceremony, unclasped the braided neck of his robe and removed his boots, flexing his toes in his thick woolen socks.

Not to be outdone, Arthur followed suit, the better to heat his cold feet. "You did that once before, didn't you?"

"What? Take off my boots? Arthur, I do that on a regular basis!"

Arthur pointed an imperious finger at Merlin. "Don't play the fool. You know what I mean. When Morgana and Helios occupied Camelot; she tried to destroy us by casting a spell, and she was as shocked as I was when nothing happened. That was your doing?"

"It was!" Merlin grinned, tapping the side of his nose. "But don't expect me to tell you how, because I'm not giving away all my secrets."

"Don't worry. You can retain your mystery. I probably wouldn't understand your methods anyway."

Merlin looked pensive for a few seconds, then he grinned. "Oh, I don't know, Arthur. You were born of magic, so perhaps you have some latent magic gifts you just don't know about."

A bark of laughter escaped Arthur's mouth; spending time with Merlin always lifted his spirits even in the darkest hours. "I very much doubt it, and I'm quite content to leave the spells to you." But his mood changed like quick silver and he stared, reflectively, into his beaker. "You almost saved my father's life." He looked up at his friend.

"I did everything I could, and I was sure the spell was working." He shook his head in regret and exasperation. "Gaius and I suspected Agravaine, but we didn't know then that he was working so closely with Morgana. I never thought to look for a counter charm."

"Why didn't you tell me about the pendant, I mean?"

"We have been pretty distracted over the last few days, Arthur, and you definitely would not have believed us at the time. Agravaine was your uncle and you should have been able to trust him," Merlin said edgily, revealing his anger that Arthur's only surviving relative had betrayed him. "Goodness knows why he chose Morgana. Gaius and I could never work that out."

"You're certain Morgana was responsible for enchanting the pendant?" Still Arthur chose to make excuses for his sister.

"I saw Agravaine with her. Besides, who else could? Morgause was dead, and there's no one else I know who has such power, except perhaps Mordred, and I believe he was in The North at the time."

"No, not Mordred," Arthur agreed, taking a drink. "I hadn't driven him straight into Morgana's clutches then." Setting the cup down on the floor, Arthur changed the subject. There was little point on dwelling on his failure with Mordred, except to make sure he didn't repeat his mistake. "Dragoon also saved Guinevere from the flames my father had consigned her to." He leaned forward in his chair, watching the flickering fire... and imagining his Guinevere... "I owe you more than I can ever repay you."

"You owe me nothing."

Shrugging, Arthur said a touch peevishly. "Because it is your destiny?"

"It began with destiny, but you know that's not why I stay by your side." Merlin regarded Arthur until his friend returned his gaze. "I grew up without my father; I lost my boyhood friend; my mother and Gaius are the only family I have. Gwen befriended me when first I arrived in Camelot. She's like the sister I never had, and though you are still the most stubborn, irritating, demanding man I could ever meet, you've become my brother, and that is why I do everything I can to protect you."

"And I you." They grinned somewhat self-consciously, both happier trading insults with each other. Abruptly, Arthur's eyes gleamed mischievously, as he pointed at his friend. "You were the Dolma! Weren't you? A woman, Merlin? I always said you were a big girl." He couldn't restrain his laughter, doubling over with delight.

"Blame Gaius for that. He knew I had to disguise myself, but he knew you wouldn't trust Dragoon again."

"Now I think of it, I thought she was familiar too, but how do you manage to change your appearance so quickly?"

"Aging spell! Let me tell you, it's not easy to do, and even harder to change back to normal. You caught me that first time, and I almost burned in Gwen's place. Thank goodness Gaius managed to concoct a potion to break the spell. Now I make sure I have a constant supply, though I think I've mastered both parts of the enchantment now."

"Hopefully, you'll never need to disguise yourself again, not from me, anyway. And you've saved my Guinevere so many times... not so long ago either. "

"Arthur, my magic cleansed Gwen, but it was your love which got her into the water. No matter what disguise I was in, I would have been helpless to perform the purification spell if she hadn't walked into the Cauldron voluntarily."

"We make a good team." Arthur picked up his cup to toast his friend, only to discover his cup was empty. Merlin reached over to refill it, and the friends shared a few minutes of comfortable silence before Arthur broached the subject that was troubling them both. "Is that woman really Morgana?"

"Truthfully?"

"Merlin!" Arthur gave his friend the regal stare.

"Truthfully, I can't say for certain. She could be a shade."

The King pressed his lips together. "I have no idea what that is."

"No? You have encountered one before." Slowly Arthur shook his head back and forth, a puzzled look on his face. "I know this subject is taboo... but Lancelot," Merlin announced, forestalling Arthur's impatient demand. "Not always, of course, but when he came back from beyond the veil. He wasn't real."

"He seemed real enough to me. He told us what happened to him. How the Madhavi people found him, the silk road, and how he made his way home."

"Memories put there by Morgana. Necromancy is a terrible and powerful magic, and Morgana used it to summon Lancelot from the otherworld, but that person was a body without a soul; a being with little knowledge of who they once were. They are called Shades and they are bound to obey the sorcerer who summons them."

"But how can you be sure, Merlin?" Arthur asked, clearly upset by the direction their conversation had taken. He had buried his jealous hurt and forgiven Guinevere, but somewhere, deep inside him, the wound was still raw.

"I found a test in one of Gaius' magic books, so he and I applied it to Lancelot, and what we saw, you don't want to know, but I can tell you, Lancelot was not a living being. At first, I thought he'd come back to kill you, but Morgana had a different target..."

"Guinevere!" Arthur ground out. "And my wife-to-be played directly into her and Lancelot's hands. I knew she always had feelings for him..."

"But she chose you, Arthur," Merlin interrupted, leaning closer to The King. "Gwen asked him to take care of you when we went to defeat the Dorocha, and he laid down his life for you. She felt guilty, but she never regretted that Lancelot died in your place."

"Then why did she throw herself into his arms the minute he returned?" Arthur pushed against the back of his chair, distancing himself from Merlin's explanation.

"Arthur, Morgana was involved! We know what she's capable of. I doubt Guinevere was totally in control of her own emotions."

Arthur's seething thoughts forced him to his feet. Snatching at the wine jug, he poured himself another drink and swallowed it down. He crossed to the table and slammed jug and cup on the surface, his breath heaving in and out like a bellows as he remembered those awful days.

"She said she felt confused... drawn to him, but she never understood why. I was so angry, I scarcely listened to her explanation." At last he turned, and Merlin saw pain written clear on his face. "I misjudged her, Merlin. You asked me to give her another chance, and I was too wrapped up in my own misery, I wouldn't heed you either. Again I chose to go with Agravaine. What a fool I was!"

"Arthur, why are you torturing yourself with what is in the past?" Merlin too rose, but he stayed by the fire. "Morgana couldn't destroy the love you and Gwen share, though we know she's tried a number of times. I only brought up Lancelot as an example of a Shade. It is possible we are dealing with another one. It would explain why Morgana seems so confused."

With a sigh, Arthur leaned against the table. He was so tired, he only wanted to go to bed with his wife. This conversation might have dredged up old hurts, yet his love for Guinevere never faltered. But how could he sleep with Morgana lurking in the dungeons, and Arthur was never one to shy away from a problem.

"Merlin, you said you tested Lancelot. Could you do the same with Morgana?"

"It's what I was planning, and it shouldn't be too difficult. I have to paint some rune marks on the ground and entice Morgana to walk over them. If she is a Shade, believe me, we will know. But, unfortunately, that's not all that worries me."

"Someone had to summon her," Arthur stated, fretting his lip with his teeth. "Have you any idea who?"

"Not at all. The only dark magical being I know who is still alive is The Dochraid, and I'm not sure she can leave her cave." Merlin watched Arthur's head sink to his chest and his breathing become even more ragged. "Arthur, we have a plan, and I don't think we can do anything more until we test Morgana. You're exhausted, and I'm almost falling asleep standing up. Perhaps we should continue this in the morning, or even after the council is over. Between Iseldir and myself, we can keep Morgana secure."

"Do you think she's come back because of the council?"

Merlin picked up Arthur's boots and came forward to confront his king. "You are asking questions to which I have no answers, and there is no way of getting them tonight. Go to bed!"

"Is that an order?" Arthur found it in him to grin, just a little.

"Yes! Your chest is hurting and you have hollows like quarries beneath your eyes. It's time you left." Merlin thrust the boots into Arthur's arms. "Go cuddle Gwen, and I'm sure you'll sleep like a baby."

"Alright. But this isn't over." Arthur said, as he swayed slowly towards the door, prompting Merlin to accompany him into the corridor and to the royal chamber. At the last moment, Arthur stopped. "Is it possible she really does have amnesia?"

Merlin signaled the guards to open the doors and pushed Arthur inside. "Go to sleep. I'm sure we'll find some answers tomorrow." He waited in the doorway as Arthur made his way to his bed. Dropping his boots and removing his clothes with some difficulty, Arthur climbed in next to Gwen and contrary to expectations, he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

With a grin, Merlin returned to his own room, but he was a very worried man. Uniting Albion and bringing magic back to the kingdom seemed the least of his problems at the moment. Damn Morgana!

Sir Leon returned late to his quarters, having set up a bed, a table and some chairs in one of the larger cells above ground where Arthur had ordered Morgana to be secured. It seemed that no matter what wickedness the witch might commit, Arthur could not forget that she was his sister and that once they had been close.

Of course, Morgana had not seen it that way when she had been escorted inside. These were not her chambers. She had complained, but in a subdued manner... not like the high-spirited young woman she had once been, or the bitter, crazed witch she had become more recently. As he'd closed and locked the heavy wooden door, he believed he heard her weep.

Leon had watched in fascination as Iseldir had preformed an enchantment, creating a mannikin of straw, setting it alight, while he murmured a spell in the old Druid tongue, then hung it over the door to the cell. Iseldir explained this would confine Morgana's magic, and, if Sir Leon could ensure the physical side of her incarceration, Camelot had nothing to fear from the High Priestess, for the present. With that in mind, Leon had commanded two guards to stand sentry duty by the door, while two more were stationed at the end of the corridor, and all would be relieved every two hours.

Now Morgana was in their hands, he intended to make sure she could do no more harm. Whether she was telling the truth or not about her memory loss made little difference to him. In his opinion, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Which, he realised, as he made ready for bed, was his whole opinion on magic. Sorcery gave too much power to unscrupulous people, and he wasn't sure it could ever be controlled.

There was a soft knock on his door and, for some seconds, he thought he might have imagined it. This had been a bizarre night, after all. But the tapping came again, more insistently. Leon glanced over to the pallet by the wall, checking to see if Percival were awake, but the large man never stirred. Moving quietly to the door, Leon opened it a crack, peering out into the shadowy passageway.

"Leon?" a voice whispered. "We have to talk."

The voice was one he hardly recognised except that it held echoes of his youth. His chance caller was Brennan, his father's older brother, who had returned to take over the family's lands and title when his grandfather had died, and who, he had no doubt, was firmly entrenched against the return of sorcery.

Slipping into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind him, Leon faced the leader of his house. "What do you want, Uncle?"

"To talk! Haven't I just said?" Brennan replied, irately. "But I don't wish to talk in a passageway." He looked up and down the bare hall. "Let me in!"

"Brennan, I can't. Right at this moment, I'm sharing a room with another of Camelot's knights, and I'm fairly sure you want to talk in private. Besides, it's late, and I've had a very busy day. Can't it wait until morning?"

The older man frowned at his nephew. "No, it can't. The Grand Council starts tomorrow morning and we have to decide on our plan of attack. You can help with that..."

"In what way?" Leon said his voice low but hard edged.

Finally accepting he wasn't going to be admitted to Leon's room, Lord Brennan leaned closer. "I understand you are very close to The King, close enough to be taken into his confidence." Camelot's visitor looked directly into Leon's eyes, yet, in his arrogance, he didn't notice the cold anger that simmered there. "You are in the perfect position to warn us of his plans, so that we can countermand them."

Taking a few threatening steps towards his Uncle, Leon made Brennan back up. Both men were tall, though Leon had the advantage of daily weapons training, which broadened his shoulders and whittled his waist. Leon drew himself up to his full height.

"Uncle, for the sake of our blood bond, I will ignore your suggestion. I have pledged my allegiance to Arthur, and even if he were not a king who I admired, I would not soil my honour by betraying him, particularly to one who means him ill."

"I do not wish him ill," Brennan countered angrily. "Though I have to question his sanity. What is he thinking, legalising magic? Has he lost his wits?"

"No! It's just he has discovered that all sorcery might not be evil," Leon explained, though without a great deal of conviction.

Brennan pounced on that uncertainty. "Leon, you hated magic. It killed your father!"

"Did it? Gaius said the wound putrefied and my father died of natural causes."

"Indeed he would say that," Brennan declared, his opinion of Gaius obvious in his disapproving stare and sarcastic tone. "He was a sorcerer himself once. Did you know that? I believe he almost made it to the pyre."

Leon shrugged. "I do! Unlike you, I was in Camelot at the time, and Gaius was unjustly incriminated. There are many knights who owe their lives to Gaius's skills, but he cannot work miracles. If he were a sorcerer, then none of his patients would die. So I'd advise you not to follow that path..."

"Very well, but his servant, this Merlin; it is rumoured he is a sorcerer, and is close to The King..."

"Before you go on, Uncle, I have to tell you that Merlin is a friend of mine also, and that I would trust him with my life." Leon backed up to his room. "If you're looking for a spy to do your bidding, you have come to the wrong person, and I would warn you against undermining Arthur's plans by dishonest means."

For the first time, Brennan looked uncertain. "Do you plan on telling The King of our conversation.?

There was silence as Leon pondered his intentions. There was no doubt that he was true to Arthur, and not only because he was king, yet this man was a blood relative and Leon understood his worries about sorcery. "No. I will forget our meeting, Brennan, but I will reiterate my warning. You can be honest in your stand against magic. Arthur has decreed that this is an open debate and that everyone has a right to their beliefs, but do not dishonour our family with acts akin to treason. I will not allow you to destroy Arthur."

Leon turned and marched into his chamber, but his breathing was heavy. Never had he felt so perplexed. He'd lived his whole life believing in the evils of sorcery, yet he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Merlin and Iseldir were decent men in whose hands he would entrust his life. He could not say the same of his uncle.

In the passageway, Brennan bared his teeth like a rabid dog. He had thought to find an ally in his nephew, but, clearly, Leon had lived too long in Camelot under the influence of The King.

Now he too left quickly to find a quiet spot in this overcrowded castle; he had a message to send to his true liege-lord. The day they'd planned for had been long in coming, but after Camlann, they'd been confident Queen Guinevere could be easily overthrown. Arthur's return had cast them into confusion, yet all was not lost. He judged that Camelot was ripe for a takeover; Arthur had, at last, made a serious mistake.

Sorry for the short part, but please do review. Your reviews give me the energy and inspiration to keep writing.