A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They absolutely made my day, and look, I'm even posting quickly now!

Merlin comes to your chambers most nights. Each night Gwen dresses you in your pure white nightgown with the billowing sleeves. It's a gown that calls you a virgin, a maid untouched. It's unnecessary. There are nights when you are hot and heavy with desire and strip it off when she's gone, to greet Merlin lying nude on the bed.

It's different from your old romance with Merlin. You don't meet him in corridors, it's far too dangerous. As the daughter of Camelot you are hardly ever unescorted. Eligible young men flock to the court.

It's odd, how often they trip on their way to greet you and end up sprawled on the floor, ridiculous. A rumor starts that you are so beautiful men fall at your feet the moment they see you. Uther encourages the rumor, his eye always out for a man that meets your standards.

You glance at Merlin under your eyelids and restrain a giggle when you see his expression. He's not jealous of them. He's only ensuring that they look like fools in front of you.

There's danger there, but not much. Uther occasionally refers to Merlin as "the idiot". Gwen tells you he's become notorious for both clumsiness and for lending his aid as a physician without payment. There's no one less likely to be a sorcerer than Merlin.

Of course, there's the way a black bird follows you when you go out riding in the forest with a full legion of guards disturbing all the other wildlife. You wave at the daring little falcon, and the guards make jokes about even birds being entranced with you.

They don't think you can hear. You smile a secret smile, and know that your skills at deception are far above their pitiful whispers. Your love and you have put work into the lie.

Merlin avoids you in public. You ignore him, and see satisfaction in Uther's eyes when Gwen delivers Gaius's unnecessary potions. Merlin acts cowed in court to appease the social standards. You smirk and recall how much bolder he was last night.

Clothing become signals. If you wear the red dress from your mother, then Merlin must not come near you that night. Usually because you will be exhausted by nightfall or Uther is in a paranoid mood and you don't want to risk any sudden interruptions. After all, the King has a key to your chambers.

Merlin always heeds these warnings. In return, you take note of whether his neckerchief is red or blue. If it's red, as it most often is, Merlin is fine. No one suspects. If he digs out a blue piece of cloth, then you've got to be careful. He can't come.

There's never an explanation until the next night, or whatever night both of you feel it's safe. Sometimes Uther is wary for an entire week, or Merlin can't escape Gaius for days. Those times you have horrible dreams at night, dreams of ice and pain deep inside you, and then roaring columns of fire. You wake up panting, and often go back to sleep frantic with desire for both Merlin's ability to soothe your dreams and his ability to make you scream.

But these spells don't last. Uther goes back to benevolence. Merlin gets Gaius to shut up about anatomy. Whenever he tells you (always after the lovemaking, because at that point neither of you feel like waiting) that Gaius decided he had to give Merlin nightly lectures about the body, you always giggle and point out at Merlin knows quite a bit about the body. You wiggle closer to him and he rubs your thigh, murmuring that if that sort of knowledge was all that was required, you'd be the best physician in the lands yourself.

With Merlin you love flirting and whispering before dropping off to sleep, and often murmuring more teases before he takes wing in the morning and you scramble into your nightgown.

Now it is painfully obvious that Gwen would need to know. She slips inside your rooms in the morning to find you with your hair rumpled and your nightgown barely on, in a room that smells of sex and stained sheets. Merlin might have been able to clean them, but it would mean the absence of your morning bouts. You prefer Gwen's knowing to missing those laughing moments.

One morning Gwen comes in with her cheeks glowing. She's even humming. It reminds you of how she looked when talking about "Gaius's apprentice" but far more intense. As soon as you're decent, you interrogate.

"Why Gwen, you're glowing." She blushes. You grin. "Come on, out with it."

"I've met this man." You knew her feelings for Merlin would fade. "His name's Lancelot."

"So…" You let it trail off suggestively. Gwen's blush flames.

"Morgana! Lancelot isn't…I can't even explain it. He's…" Gwen goes starry eyed. "He's everything I ever wanted. He's noble, and he believes in right, and his hair is soft and he has big brown eyes."

"I'm happy for you." Gwen steps forward and takes your hand. You blink at her.

"I just wanted to say that I understand. I mean, I understand why you're doing this." "

"This" is quite clearly the love you share with Merlin. And you know that Gwen can't possibly understand what it's like to be a monster in a court that's monstrous for entirely different reasons, what it's like to have your world repeatedly ripped apart.

But perhaps she understands love.

There are people who you would not say understand love at all, and first on that list is Nimueh. One night when Uther is in a bad mood and so you wear the red dress, you go to your chambers to find a scrap of parchment on your windowsill.

Sister. Meet Nimueh and I in the forest.

It's isn't much, but it gives you an ominous feeling. You look out into the night where the moon is full, and don't want to go. There's the feeling that you haven't had since childhood, when you woke up after you'd been dreaming and didn't remember anything but the feeling of terror.

Still, it's Morgause. You don't trust Nimueh anymore, not since you found that she killed Uther's wife and since you learned magic in a way far less painful from Merlin. But Morgause is your sister. You can hardly refuse her based on just a passing shiver that could have been the cool night air. Or the way the moonlight shines with a sickly glow.

You throw on your cloak and sneak out of Camelot, to the forest. Once there, the terrible feeling grows.

"Hello, Princess." You whirl around. There's Nimueh. She hasn't changed at all, she even wears that bloody red dress. Her eyes glitter. "Morgana, Morgana, Morgana. I did not think when I saw you that you would play such a role."

"What are you talking about?" You ask her sharply. "Where is Morgause?"

"Here." Morgause appears by a tree. She looks, for the first time in all the time you've known her, afraid. Nimueh has more power than she, after all, and you are beginning to doubt this night. "Morgana, we need your help."

"No, darling girl." Nimueh's lips twist up. "We need your blood."

"Excuse me?" You summon up your dignity and glare at Nimueh. You aren't a scared child anymore. You've lived at the heart of Uther's court and manipulated the King into trusting you, you'll not be cowed by a sorceress who has sulked in the Other World for over twenty years.

"So righteous. Just like your father." Nimueh murmurs. Morgause flinches. You have to force yourself to look her in the face. "You're going to justify your existence today Morgana."

"My right to live has nothing to do with my parentage." You brace your feet in the good soil. "And I want justifications from you. Let's start with why you killed Queen Igraine."

Nimueh tosses her head and laughs. It's a mad sound.

"The power of life and death is not mine to master. Uther made his choice." You look at her with cold blankness, and do not respond. It's a stonefaced technique you learned from Uther when he wanted to force people into confessions. "And she was not important."

"You tell that to the thousands Uther killed in vengeance." You spit back at her. "Tell that the man whose heart you broke, and broke again when you let Mary Collins go back to Camelot and kill his son." Nimueh freezes.

"Do not think to blame this on me." And you can't blame it on Nimueh. But you also cannot blame it on Uther, because if someone killed Merlin you could see yourself destroying all the world to avenge him. "And anyway, this will all be over soon."

"What do you mean by that?" You ask. Fear is crawling in your stomach. You do not let it show in your voice. "I hardly see you and Uther working out a peace treaty."

At this late date, not even Nimueh's death would satisfy Uther. Now that he has set himself as the enemy of all magic, his pride won't let him stop.

"But you are his bloodkin." Nimueh whispers. "Your blood can drown him."

You step back as she advances. Morgause has moved to your side, and she clutches your elbow, holding you in place. You cast a quick betrayed glance at your sister. She is resolute, if pale.

"This is not much, Morgana. We don't need much." You shake your head.

"No! I am not going to be an accessory to the murder of Uther, he is…" Your father. A man who in a convoluted way seems to love you. Your father. "A bitter old man. Wait for him to die in the winter, it won't take long."

"I am through waiting." Nimueh hisses. There's stark madness in her eyes. The moonlight is fading, you look upwards and see with horrified eyes that an eclipse is covering the moon and bathing all of you in red light. This is why Nimueh has not struck at you before now. She needs the red moonlight. This is a ritual, something ancient and powerful that Merlin never taught you because he was never fool enough to meddle in these things. "To save a life, a life must be taken. To make a death, a part of the whole must be destroyed."

Morgause wobbles back. "We don't need to kill her."

"Fool." Nimueh throws up a hand and you are blown back. Vines wind from the ground, thorny vines, piercing your skin and sending rivulets of blood down your forearms. They secure you, and some are in your hair, baring your throat. You choke and struggle. "If Uther is to drown in her blood, he'll need more than a cut. Only lifeblood kills."

The future hits you.

Your throat torn out, blood flowing from it and staining the ground, too much blood to fit in one person. Your eyes wide, life leaving them. Uther crying out in a meeting with his councilors, blood gurgling from his mouth as your blood fills his lungs. He falls to his knees and the crown rolls from his head. It rolls through the rapidly spreading circle of blood. Not one of the fleeing dignitaries or nobles or servants pick it up, they stare at it in terror. Nimueh picking it up. Your sister in her dungeons, struggling in magic chains. Merlin's gold eyes as he looks up at the queen of Camelot from the courtyard, and from his outstretched hand roars lightning. His eyes are dark, and civil war rocks Albion as the lands split into feudal fiefdoms and northern warriors sweep into Camelot, a handsome young man who must be Lancelot falls in battle, Gwen stands at his grave and swigs poison, Merlin sits in a tower and looks over the destroyed lands with no pity.

"No!" You scream, and magic in you rushes to the surface. You rock away from Nimueh and her outstretched hand, nails elongated and looking like claws. They swipe only your cheek, and your magic struggles against the vines.

They're too strong, of course. Nimueh's magic is powerful on levels you don't even want to dream of. Morgause leaps forward and her eyes are turning gold to fight against Nimueh, to fight for you, because your sister is not foul. She is like Uther, not told the true price of a deal by Nimueh.

You can't fight these chains. You know that. You stretch out your magic in another way, trying to imitate Mordred and his uncanny ability to speak in thoughts.

Because there is one person who loves you, and can fight this monster.

Merlin! MERLIN! You scream into the nether regions of the mind. You feel a sudden stirring, see Merlin in your mind's eye. He is turning around, his eyes widening, in Gaius's chambers eating dinner. His eyes see yours, see through yours, see Nimueh and rage that is not yours ripples through you.

I'm coming. It's barely a conscious thought because Merlin is moving already. Your magic wanes, it's not strong enough for a long connection of that sort, but your work's been done. You grin at Nimueh with bared teeth.

Morgause bought you this time. She has flung herself at Nimueh and attacked her with magic. It was utterly unexpected. Nimueh must have thought that Morgause was obedient enough to the most powerful practitioner in the world that she wouldn't see beneath the façade of sanity. Or the façade of servant hood, where Merlin lurks, and Merlin is more powerful than Nimueh.

The element of surprise didn't do enough for Morgause. Nimueh flings her away with magic, disdainfully twitching her fingers and snapping the bones of Morgause's leg. Morgause lets out a sobbing breath.

"Now, to business." Nimueh pants. She turns at you and raises the claw-like fingers again. "You should have fled when you knew that your bloodline was foul."

You feel Merlin before Nimueh does. It gives you courage to laugh in her face. Nimueh's face twists with fury, then the ground rumbles. The night is no longer dead and in terror, it's become infused with wrath. The very trees are quivering.

Merlin comes into the clearing riding a hurricane. That's the best you can describe it, because something has been done to you. Perhaps it's the strain of using so much magic, or the blood still leaking from dozens of tiny punctures, but your mind is slipping.

It's clear enough for you to see the battle. Nimueh's eyes widen and fear flickers through them. Who would not be afraid to see Merlin descending with blazing gold eyes and the forces of creation held in his hands?

Morgause certainly is, she's staring at Merlin like she's never seen him before, and it's true that she really never has. Merlin raises a hand and the vines dissolve into dust. You slump down, unable to support your own weight.

Nimueh flings up her hands and fire coalesces around them. She throws it at Merlin and Merlin bats it away with pure white light, that counters the bloody tinge of the night. Merlin tips his head up with his burnished gold eyes, and one hand goes to the heavens.

It's like your dream, but worse. Lightning rips down from the heavens, though there are no clouds, and Nimueh tries to stop it. She fails, the glimmering dome of blue light in her palm nothing compared to the white fire that slices apart the sky.

The greatest enchantress in the world dies in a howl of lightning. Morgause covers her eyes. You aren't sure you're capable of shutting your own. Merlin watches, and then cups his hand and lifts it to the heavens to meet the other. He pushes at the sky.

The eclipse rolls from the moon. The night is once more bathed in silvery light, and you can feel the relief of the forest. Merlin runs to your side. He grabs your shoulders, eyes wide and gold and panicked.

"Bloodlines curse." Morgause croaks. He barely pays attention to her. You try to smile at him. Merlin picks you up, and you'd be happy to die in his arms this way, except you don't want to die. And you don't think you're going to.

"Go." Merlin tells Morgause. "And be glad that you fought for Morgana."

You rest your head on his shoulder, and Merlin takes you to Camelot. You're not sure how. It's like a vortex spins around you both, making you close your eyes, and then you feel the warmth of candles and a horrified gasp from Gwen and you are sure these are your chambers.

The feeling is reinforced when Merlin lays you down on a silk sheet, and this is definitely your bed. You just can't seem to open your eyes. Merlin leans down and presses his lips to yours, and you float into a blissful sleep.

When you awake, it is to the sound of Gwen's quiet sobs. You blink and sit up. You slept like the dead. You've been dressed in a nightgown and laid beneath the sheets, and the abrasions on your skin tended to.

"Gwen?" She looks up and only bawls harder. "Gwen, what's going on?"

"I-I-it's-" She's not coherent. You rise from the bed and kneel at her side. "I didn't mean to!"

"Gwen, dear, what has happened?" The first thought it that something happened to Lancelot. But he wasn't involved at all in the scene in the clearing, so what could have happened?

"I-It's, it's Uther!" Gwen looks at you with bloodshot eyes and a tearstained face. "Merlin's to be executed."

"What?" You ask softly. All the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Gwen nods miserably.

"You were gone from your chambers so I ran for the guard because you would have told me if you and Merlin were sneaking away for a night, and then Merlin appeared holding you and Uther burst into the room just as he kissed you." Gwen is shaking, but the story is told. "He's going to execute him at dawn, but I couldn't just leave you, and you wouldn't wake!"

"No." You murmur. You rush to the window. The pyre is made. It's stacked with wood, and people are assembling. It's not too late. You are Uther's daughter. "He'll listen to me."

"He's accusing Merlin of, of," Gwen closes her eyes. "Of trying to assault you. Of hurting you. I swear by all the gods Morgana, I did not know!"

"He cannot!" You cry. You run for the chamber door. Gwen pushes herself into your way and barely gets a deep blue shawl to cover you, tying it as you stride down passageways.

It is not too late. Uther is drinking his wine, and all the people in the court who will watch Merlin die to gain Uther's favor are assembled. You stare at Uther from the doorway. He turns his head away from you.

"Don't kill him." You say, your mouth newly dry. Uther is not inclined to be merciful today. You can see it in his eyes. The court shifts uneasily.

"He was in your chambers kissing you, Morgana, his crime is clear." Uther finishes the goblet. "Do you care to watch with me?"

You numbly walk forward. There are guards all around. You are exhausted. What can you do without your sword, with your only ally this helpless maidservant and perhaps her lover, against this man? Uther is uneasy as you approach him, looking like he would back away but that he won't lose face in front of the court that way.

"Please." You whisper.

"No."

You fall to your knees before Uther. The court gasps as one, and becomes dead silent. You stare up at Uther as Gwen hovers on the sidelines. If she hadn't been the one who called the guards, she'd probably be burning with Merlin.

"I am begging you." You say, looking up at him. You hair is undone and falling around you, your blue cover against your white nightgown starkly contrasts the reds of Camelot. "I am pleading with you as your daughter, to spare him."

"He has dared things no servant could." In a horrified stupor, you see him moving away from you. He's not going to relent. He's going to execute Merlin for doing nothing more than saving your life, and loving you.

"I love him!" You cry to your father's back. Uther freezes, and slowly turns back to you.

"I beg your pardon?" That's a dangerous voice.

"Please, I am on my knees before you, pleading. I have been dutiful, I have my right to love him, and that he loves me in return is no crime, love is not against your laws! Banish him, let us leave together, I'll go and you'll never have to look me in the face again." Lie, lie, lie. You've been anything but dutiful. Merlin's crime last night was to use magic in Camelot, and you committed it with him, and love might as well be against Camelot's laws, it's so frowned on.

"You're hysterical." Truth. Uther walks away. You've begun to cry, and maybe it's the stress of nearly being killed a night ago but you can't think, and you scramble to your feet-huh, you never put on shoes-and run after him.

"Father!" You scream at his back. Uther waves a hand.

"Guards, restrain her." Two burly guards go for you. They obviously don't know what to do, whether to roughly handle you or barely touch you. You solve the problem by kicking one in the balls and slapping the other, and rushing after Uther anyway. He stares at you incredulously.

"You are a broken old man, and in the end your own shriveled black heart will destroy you!" You howl at him as new guards grab you. These wrap arms around your waist, clap chains on your wrists. Why must the guards choose now to be quick learners?

Uther looks at you with murderous eyes. You stare back with the same eyes, but yours are laced with tears and you don't have the power to kill him.

"Take her to the dungeons. Let her watch from the window." You cry and shriek and struggle as you are dragged away, making a spectacle in front of the entire court, no doubt. Maybe the marriage proposals will stop! No one marries a madwoman!

Thoughts like that dash around your mind as you are hurled into the dungeons. You grab at the bars and shake them, but these bars have withstood greater criminals than you. You run to the window, a tiny slit just above your eye level that lets you see the feet of the spectators.

"Merlin!" You scream out. "Merlin!"

No one hears you. There are too many drums. They must be marching him out now. You scream and now your throat is hoarse, but no one hears. Uther's voice rings out, and though no one hears you, the command "Light it!" comes though the window loud and clear.

There's a mighty whoosh of air. The feet you're watching stumble back, as cries mingle with yells and Uther's bellow of rage. People scatter every which way, and you see a column of fire fifty feet high roaring into the air.

You slide down the side of cell, gripped by hysterical laughter. Has Merlin escaped? Has he decided to go out with a roar? Who knows! You laugh all night, and it sounds like sobs.

Uther lets you out in the morning. You snarl at him and push past, ignoring the shocked looks of the faces of the nobles. There just might be some sympathy there as well. Uther threw a beautiful young girl into the dungeons when she tried to defend a man she loved. This might tip the scales of sympathy in the court.

But you don't care. You go to your chambers and crumple on the bed, unable to do any more crying. All you can do is sit on your bed and stare at nothing. No Merlin flutters to the window. Merlin isn't stupid. He'll have quit Camelot, unless he's died. Either way, he can't return.

Gwen comes in, smelling like a man's chambers, and you shelter in her arms.

"When they lit the pyre, it burned up. The explosion licked the corners of the square, but it didn't hurt anyone, and people are talking about that. A few people with maladies claim they've been cured." She tells you quietly, stroking your hair.

"He'd do that." You choke out. The thought of Merlin's kindness is unbearable.

"Did you know?" Gwen asks. Her tone is careful. "That Merlin was a sorcerer?"

"Did I…" you begin to laugh. Hysterics grip you as you think of the way you met him on a magic island and how he cured your wounds and how he has the most powerful magic of any in the world and your own magic responded so well to him. Gwen rocks you back and forth until you can think again. "Yes."

"Oh." Gwen is silent. "You didn't turn him in."

"I could never…" You are dangerously close to more hysteria. You look at Gwen and try to use magic, finding dredges. Your eyes flash gold, only enough to ruffle the curtains on the bed. Gwen makes a gulping sound.

You prepare to be pushed away. Gwen just sighs and keeps holding you.

"No wonder. I'm sorry for you." She'll bear this secret.

That's not much comfort. You rest your head against your only friend's shoulder, and are wracked with grief.

A/N: Review?