Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Amazing huh?

Title: What Could Have Been

Chapter: 3

Word Count For Chapter: 4,355

Author: Crisiscase

Summary: One false word, one angry outburst, one mistake and now she knows, now she knows he has magic… What could have been had Merlin confessed when he confronted Morgana in the Camelot crypts…

BETAs: The Ashes Fan, Mnemosyne77 and brickroad16

A/N: Really really sorry about how long this has taken! I have had exams and RL is being difficult at the minute. I'll try and impprove on the update time next time. Anyway here we go again. First non-Merlin POV, but a lot of you will hopefully be happy, Morgana's turn to be in the spotlight. Anyway I would like to thank my brilliant new BETA – The Ashes Fan, who has helped me immensely. Thanks so much for all your time and effort. Also thanks to all of you people who have reviewed so far and I hope that trend continues. Thanks again, Crisis.

Her dreams were disturbed, chaotic, but thankfully not, as far as she knew, visions. They were too jumbled, too random, and too fuzzy. When she had her visions the pictures were clear. Confused? Yes. But clear. And these… these weren't. The visions were scattered, random. She'd be in a field then looking down on Camelot with its huge turrets and impenetrable citadel but throughout it all… throughout it all, his presence, his overwhelming, hateful presence. She hated it, even in her dreams she couldn't escape it, couldn't fight it. It was a constant reminder; a welt on her ordinarily invincible emotional armour, a gaping hole in her mental stability

The presence surrounded her, the presence of the one she hated. She hated him for so many reasons. The new one, the fact that he had hidden his magic from her, was just second aside to the fact that he had tried to kill her. The man who had seemed so innocent and kind before had now been exposed as liar, a betrayer and yet he held her loyalties, fragile though they were. For, he had been right. He was always right about that kind of thing. She did not want to be a murderer and she had been oh so close to becoming one. He had changed her mind though. He had shifted her perspective, turned her world upside down and for that she held resentment for him. Who was he to do that to her? So now she reluctantly gave her loyalty to him despite the fact that she hated him. After all, loyalty and liking someone were completely different things.

And then she was there, in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by his presence, the presence which drove an icy bolt of fury and bitterness through her. She was facing him, gazing into his endless blue eyes, eyes flecked with gold, eyes that stirred the hate within her. Here was the man who had forced her out of her world of black and white, of good and bad, of light and dark. He had forced her to see in shades of grey, to re-evaluate the world she thought she had known, to second guess everything. And she hated him for it.

"My Lady?"

A pair of callused hands shook her shoulder gently, softly. Morgana knew who it was that was disturbing her sleep. Gwen. Her ever loyal maidservant, her maidservant who didn't know the true her, no-one did, no-one except him. Even Morgause and Mordred, those she had called family for a year didn't know her fully, they didn't truly know the compassionate, caring side but Merlin, Merlin knew both sides, and she resented him for it. It was unfair she knew, but never before had someone managed to delve so deep into her character and she didn't like it. She didn't like it at all.

"My Lady?"

There was Gwen's call again, and Morgana felt herself losing her dream, losing his hateful presence, losing his mesmerising eyes. How could one servant be so full of surprises, so full of contradictions? How could he possess magic and yet still defend Uther? She wondered if she would ever understand Merlin. He was a puzzle, a shell of light with a hateful darkness beneath. She felt Gwen give her another soft shake and she knew that it was time to rise. She sighed and through half open eyes glared at Gwen, her eyes gave her away though, they were dancing in amusement.

Gwen smiled prettily at her.

"Awake now?"

Morgana sighed; her countenance darkening as she once again remembered Merlin. He had betrayed her, lied to her, and hidden the truth from her. But still, she had promised to defend Camelot, and Morgana didn't want to lose the little bit of herself that she had regained, the bit that could feel. Why she had promised she would never know, but she had and she would do it, and by the heavens she would do it well.

She glanced up at Gwen whose smile had faded; the maidservant was now watching Morgana with a slight frown creasing her beautiful features. Morgana knew she was worried. So she smiled, a perfectly faked smile, one attained by hours practising in the mirror, and through endless hours of sitting in on the court. The court… Morgana groaned, a sound of irritation and boredom, one she knew she would inwardly be making a great many times that morning, because, once again; Uther had called a meeting of the court, which really meant that he would call all his persons of import and talk of meaningless things… Uther has judged that since it has been eight days since the attack a court meeting would be a good idea. Morgana couldn't have disagreed more. But she, out of good courtesy, would have to attend… not only would she have to attend but she'd have to plaster a fake smile on her face and please the crowd of nobles that would be there.

And now Gwen's smile had returned full force because she could obviously tell what Morgana was thinking.

"Is court so bad, My Lady?"

Almost any servant, except maybe Merlin, could have been executed for such an invasive comment, for a servant to ask a Lady of import to comment on others of such standing was unthinkable but Morgana appreciated Gwen's honesty. They were more friends than mistress and servant, or they had been until Morgana had gone with Morgause. When she had returned there had been a divide, an un-crossable divide that hadn't been there before. But now, it was as if there was a thin beam across the crevice, small, but steady, the bit of her that she had managed to salvage calling out to her friend. For that was what they were; they were friends. Although when the day ended Gwen was still the one with callused hands. Pushing such thoughts from her mind Morgana smiled at Gwen, and this time she didn't have to fake it.

"Oh no! I so enjoy smiling winsomely at the many ridiculous, metal minded buffoons who call themselves knights. It's so much fun!" Morgana gave an over staged girlish giggle while she fluttered her eyelashes at Gwen. The maidservant only held her gaze for a second before she burst into giggles, Morgana soon following.

Tears ran down Gwen's face. Perhaps it really hadn't been that funny, but in the face of the destruction Cenred's attack had caused, in the face of the dark times Camelot had endured, any moment of levity seemed to be so much more appreciated than normal. As her mirth died down Morgana looked at Gwen who was rubbing away the remnants of her laughter induced tears. Morgana watched as Gwen visibly calmed herself down, took a breath and then spoke.

"Had we better pick you out a dress, My Lady?"

Morgana nodded reluctantly. She rose from the bed and then stepped forwards allowing Gwen to immediately busy herself with pushing the pale lilac sheets back into some semblance of order. Morgana's night time dream wanderings tended to mean that the blankets and sheets took a rather painful beating. Honestly she thought Gwen is a miracle worker. The irony of a magic user thinking that only occurred to her after she'd had the thought.

She glanced to the bedside where a now empty bottle stood. It was a sleeping draught that Gaius had prepared for her four days ago after she had had her 'talk' with Merlin. She would have to send Gwen to get some more soon, because she needed to get some sleep before the visions or nightmares returned to her. She had thrown the charm bracelet into a lake nearby after her confrontation with Merlin; she had no idea what spells could potentially be on it. It was also an act of symbolism to her, throwing of the vestiges of who she had been eight days ago. However while the psychical marks of who she had been were easy to remove, the mental marks, the emotional wounds were harder to remove.

Shaking the thought off, she moved towards her huge oak wood wardrobe. The wooden behemoth had been a gift to her from Uther for her 16th birthday; it was the only one of his gifts that she used. Unfortunately the wardrobe stood adjacent to the large, long window that looked out over the wide courtyard, which, even at this time, was milling with people. The expressions of these people, unknowingly being watched had always fascinated her, the play of expressions across a person's face, the way one could shift to happiness to anger, from bitterness to joy, from being troubled to looking resolute, it entranced her.

As a teenaged girl, a small figure in a very big and intimidating new castle, she had become mesmerized by the court, and she had kept quiet, studying people; the way they thought, what made them tick. And then she used it, used the knowledge to get what she wanted.

As a girl she had used this study, this knowledge to acquire new dresses or a horse from her father. A few years ago she had played on Arthur's weak points in order to convince him to do the right thing. Just a few days ago she had been using the power this understanding gave her to worm her way back into the castle, to acquire the King's deepest trust.

She had always watched, she understood what she saw and then, when she was sure of her position, she could subtly utilize the power the comprehension had given her. Maybe this long study was why her own emotional mask was so firmly fixed, so unbreakable, unless your name happened to be Merlin and you had magic and oversized ears. She sighed. When had the problems of the world become so weighty, so inescapable?

It was then, when Morgana was lamenting the loss of innocence, the loss of the ease with which her life had flowed, that there was break in the crowd, a void, a gaping hole on the left side of the courtyard, and just as sod's law dictated, who was to fill that gap but the object of part of her lamentation? A head of black hair, troubled, clouded blue eyes that were flecked with gold and oversized ears. Merlin.

Something within Morgana turned to ice at the side of him, he had betrayed her, he had lied to her, and she hadn't forgiven him, yes she would help him, but forgive him?

That was another matter altogether. A group from within the crowd began moving to the left sided exit from the courtyard and just then, just before he was swallowed by the crowd he glanced up at her window, and he met Morgana's eyes and once more her eyes locked with his frosty, cold eyes, mirroring her own orbs. And then he was gone. Sighing once again, Morgana turned back to the wardrobe, totally oblivious to Gwen's intense, watchful gaze which was fixed on her mistress' back.

The next hour was lost in swirls of fabric and colour; giggles filled the room as Morgana tried on dress after dress, shade after shade of beautiful, stunning fabric and cast away each one. Glancing out of the window; Morgana saw the sun was fairly high in the sky. She only had a half hour at best. And she was left with a choice of two dresses. One was a bright shade of green and one, one was a deep reddish brown, maroon she supposed, in colour, the same one she had worn to the ball, Merlin's first day in Camelot she recalled.

She seemed to remember a new servant with his mouth left hanging open. And that decided it, she reached for the gown.

If she was going to attend this sodding gathering and the feast that was annoyingly likely to follow it she was going to do it in style, she was going to do it right. And… if, on the almost certain possibility that Merlin was there then the fact that she would stun him to silence had no effect on her choice of outfit… The possibility that she could have power over the man who had betrayed her had nothing to do with it… nope… nothing at all. And if she could silence even a few of those idiotic prats that called themselves warriors then that might increase the intelligence of a few of her conversations immeasurably. Morgana loved power, and her beauty was just one way of getting it.

So as she retreated behind the screen that stood against her back wall, as Gwen passed the chosen dress over said divider Morgana dressed herself up mentally as well. No longer was she Morgana the sorceress, Morgana the rage ridden, Morgana the vulnerable, no… now she was The Lady Morgana, invincible, impenetrable, and untouchable.

She walked from behind the screen, immeasurably beautiful and enchanting. She was ready for the court, mentally and psychically. But as she left her room she couldn't help but yearn for the dream she had left behind, for the gaze of those gold flecked deep blue eyes, the ones that let her be free to hate.

"Rise Sir Osilon, son of Benedrick Osilon, Knight of Camelot."

Uther's voice was clipped, arrogant and smug. That was what passed for a warm tone coming from the king. Sir Osilon immediately obeyed his King's orders, rising from the floor where he had kneeled before his ruler.

Morgana's smile was wide, perfect, and pristine from where she sat on her ornately carved chair which sat to the left of Uther's. No-one noticed how her smile didn't reach her eyes, how those same emerald orbs were not shining with their usual light, no-one ever could, no-one except Merlin, and he wasn't here right now. Arthur was, but his manservant was consciously absent.

This frustrated the already irritated Lady to her wits end. She had worn this bloody dress to stun him; to force him beneath her power but how could he be stunned if he wasn't here? She realised she was mentally wailing like a petulant child but she didn't care. The point was she was going to have to 'enjoy' having the 'pleasure' of one of Uther's feasts and she now couldn't savour the look on Merlin's face, the power and satisfaction that would give her.

When the newly knighted Sir Osilon had retreated a few paces to stand within the ranks of the Knights of Camelot, taking a position between Sir Leon and Sir Pellinor, Uther raised a hand in what she gathered he thought was gentle benediction; it just made her hate him all the more. But she had promised Merlin, Merlin who wasn't here… And like that her ire rose again.

"Friends," Uther began and Morgana had to repress a snort. How many here could legitimately say that they were 'friends' with Uther? Only Gaius could, and his 'friendship' with Uther was tenuous at best.

"We are here today to celebrate the knighting of a new defender for our great walls, a new protector of the people, a new force to bring us yet more honour. But we are also here to celebrate the defence of these very walls, which our warriors fought so hard for. We are here to rejoice in the impregnability of our fortress and the resilience of our knights. To feast and laugh as we once did, to enjoy ourselves for one day in remembrance of a proud fight hard won. So, friends, feast, drink, and exult. To Camelot!"

And as Uther raised the goblet he had taken from the High Table, Morgana could have laughed. Uther may be a murder, may be a paranoid bitter husk of a man but he was smart. Uther knew. He knew very well, that if he had the Knights of Camelot on his side then no-one could challenge him. No-one could pose a threat to him. Not from within his own kingdom, and as Cenred had proved, outsiders had very little chance of succeeding. Morgana knew that in his eyes, Uther thought that he was as impregnable as this fortress. His pretty speech to earn the loyalty of the knights made Morgana hate him, want him dead. How dare he laugh and smile when he killed so many? But her promise to the absent manservant stayed her temper.

Thankfully she would be able to enjoy the feast in relative comfort as Uther would simply put her next to himself and one of the knights, and she was more than adept at freezing out any knight. The only person she couldn't freeze out, the person she couldn't hide her thoughts and emotions from, was the one she would most like to. She hated sod's law. She really did.

Time drifted by rather slowly for her; food was consumed and she was careful with her drink. She couldn't afford to lose control, not when her magic was running so close to the surface. With the secrets she held, her nerves were frayed and her emotions wild, her magic was burning through her veins, controlled but barely. It was only Morgause's lessons in control which were saving her. And Merlin still wasn't here. Perhaps he wasn't coming she wondered, after all if he wasn't here by now why should he be coming at all? She made a faint signal and Gwen stepped forward from the faint shadows behind the High Table to refill her mistress' wine glass. That was Morgana's first refill. Normally that would have been Merlin's job but seeing as how he was on some errand for Arthur…

That was when he entered the hall, the faint buzz of conversations that filled the hall never pausing as he entered; his black hair tousled and askew, ears large, a huge smile on his face that seemed to radiate warmth but Morgana noticed it didn't reach his eyes, his troubled, clouded eyes. The same state they had been in two days ago when he had confronted her. She hated those eyes. The eyes that could strip away her defences, the eyes that could see her as her, the eyes that seemed to be able to see into her very soul. And they were locked on her own eyes, and she could feel the chill that seemed to emanate from them, the same chill that was mirrored in her own eyes. And she barely noticed that his smile had dimmed to also become fake because she was too consumed. Too consumed by the hate and resentment he stirred within her. He had lied to her and turned her away when she had been grasping for a hand to hold. She had been desperately reaching out for someone to help her and he had kept his silence. That stirred anger within her. But the bigger thing, the more important thing consumed her emotions now. He had poisoned her. He had tried to kill her when she had done nothing wrong. Why had he even done it? The injustice of the attack inflamed her rage.

And still her smile stayed the image of perfection. He walked right past her, walking across the room behind the high table to talk to Arthur. She kept her gaze on him for one second then turned back; it wouldn't do to be seen staring at him. It was then she realized something, he hadn't been astounded, hadn't been gaping, hadn't been stunned into submission by her beauty. And now she was seething. It felt like every time she made a move he was always there to counter her, always there to stop whatever it was… she paused her line of thought.

On the outside, Morgana was silent, her eyes fixed at the end of the hall, but inside her mind she was journeying back, back to every incident when Arthur had gone off to fight some beast who had been miraculously defeated at the last moment, and Merlin had always been there, always in the shadows, helping him, supporting him. Shielding him. With Magic. It all made sense to her now, all of it… he was Camelot's unseen protector, its last line of defence. The weapon in the dark. The weapon she had never seen, the weapon that had defeated every sorcerer to ever come against these walls. Including her.

She ground her teeth at how infuriating it was. Why couldn't she understand him? Why couldn't she, Morgana, mistress of manipulation, figure him out? Morgana had always hated unsolved puzzles, and Merlin was the most complex puzzle she had ever encountered. He had beguiled, deceived and tricked her as to his true nature from his first day here and still she couldn't understand… he had forced her into this world of grey without an anchor, without a stable figure, much as he shoved her into the world without a guide when one was so close at hand. And now she felt less alone, because there was another… another who had to hide his secret, someone she could use as her anchor, someone who would have no choice but to aide her in hiding his secret just as she'd have to aide him. Morgause had been a comfort, the only one to show her acceptance and understanding, but she hadn't lived in Camelot, hadn't lived under Uther's nose while struggling to hide her magic… but Merlin… Merlin had and that was a reassurance, a comfort. But again, she bitterly resented the comfort he had given her, resented it because he shouldn't comfort her, not when she hated him so… it made no sense, not even to her.

Her eyes fell to Sir Leon and the newly knighted Sir Osilon, they were eating merrily and joking with Merlin as he leaned over and refilled their tankards. He smiled goofily, mimed something and laughed along with them as they chuckled at his antics.

She gritted her teeth. How could someone be so different than they appeared? How could he pretend so well? How could he appear nothing more than a bumbling manservant but still be the powerful warlock she knew he was? How was it possible? How had she not noticed? He had made her look a fool, allowing her to babble on about how he didn't understand when all along… and the sight of him laughing and joking brought rage to the surface, simmering just beneath a thin layer of control and underneath it the curiosity, the curiosity to know how, when, where, why.

He was a sorcerer. They should be working together to take down Uther, not working to shield him and his son. They should never have been on different sides… and then she thought of all the atrocities she had seen, all the burnings and hate… why had he, he who had the power, never done anything? Never protected any of them? And like that her restraint fractured, magic surging between the crack and her blood rushed, her whole being on fire, she roughly rammed the power under control before anything could happen, but she could feel it struggling, fighting its way free. She had to leave now, before her anger, her panic and her frustration caused her to loose control.

She shot to her feet, all conversation dying immediately as the King's Ward stood. And her fake smile was still in place, they couldn't see that she was clawing for air, fighting her body. Uther turned from a conversation he was having with an Arthur who hadn't been so careful with his wine consumption.

"Morgana?"

Uther's voice held a tinge of concern, and that would have sent fury shooting through her, if she hadn't been, you know, close to losing control of a force that would get her killed, she wasn't strong enough yet to fight off Camelot's knights alone.

"I-I'm not feeling well, I think it may be one of my turns, I think I need to go lie down. Please excuse me."

Uther nodded uncertainly.

"Of course."

Morgana offered a weak smile before she left the hall, walking past Merlin's lithe, lanky form. She knew she hated him, knew she hadn't forgiven him… But she'd made a promise. A promise to him and in some ways to herself, she was not going to become a murderer.

She pushed the question from her mind as she left, hurrying to her bedchambers, and silently, watchfully Gwen followed her, her eyes having taken note of everything.

Morgana's head was resting on the bedpost of her bed, her mind in a mess, a whirlwind of confusion and fear. How could he stir such feelings? How could he affect her so that the strong, invincible Morgana would desert her and she'd flee the ball?

That was how Gwen found her.

Morgana raised her head as her maidservant entered her chambers. Normally she'd talk to Gwen, spill her secrets but this time, this time she couldn't and she found herself missing that, missing the bond they had shared, the bond now violated by secrets and deception.

"Have you taken ill, My Lady?"

Morgana offered her a smile.

"Just a headache, Gwen, I think I'll rest."

Gwen returned the smile.

"Are you sure, My Lady becau-"

"I am fine, Gwen. I just need to rest."

And now Morgana's tone was short, and hard as iron. Gwen blinked once owlishly in surprise before offering Morgana a curtsey.

"Of course, My Lady, I shall take my leave."

The sudden formality sent a pang through Morgana's heart but it was necessary, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball on her bed and sleep, because while, even there she couldn't escape him at least there, there was the warmth of the dream as opposed to the coldness and confusion of reality.

Gwen left, closing the door softly.

Morgana sighed before collapsing onto the soft bed. She shifted onto her side. Her raven hair splayed out across the pillows, a dark, enigmatic shadow. Slowly she closed her eyes as the mental and emotional trauma she was feeling overcame her whirling mind and she sank into the soft embrace of darkness. Her last thought of blue eyes flecked with gold and the hate and resentment they inspired.

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE: The first thing i want to say is that i have had an idea as far as this fic goes. Everytime this fic reaches gets a hundred reviews, i will post an EXTRA/BONUS chapter precisely seven days after the hundreth review comes in. I'll continue to write and update as normal but when i reach a hundred reviews i will add an extra chapter a week after the hundreth review comes in. So we're currently at 59 reviews, 41 more are needed for the bonus chapter, the faster i get to the 100 hundred review the faster the bonus chapter gets put out. I want to make clear that i am not withholding chapters or anything, i will just specifically write a chapter in celebration/reward of the hundreth review. So you get a bonus chapter for reching the hundred review mark and you get a bonus chapter for the two hundred review mark and so on. The last important thing i want to say is that in the future i may touch on adult themes. I won't write any of the scenes or anything but i may mention themes such as how bandits treated the captured women of that time... I basically would like all my reviewers and readers to tell me in their review if they want me to move the rating of this story to M or to not mention that part of reality as far as bandits' actions of the time are concerned.

Anyway, what do you think? R&R please, I really would love to know what you all think. However if you are going to be negative please tell me why you're being negative so I can improve. Thanks. Crisis.