POP!
Merlin and Morgana appeared from nowhere. For a moment they hung suspended in midair, limbs twisting in a crazed struggle for dominance, before falling straight down, landing on the surface of an ancient stone altar. They broke apart, rolling in opposite directions. Merlin groaned, seared his right arm. Blood soaked his sleeve, trickling steadily from a gaping wound in his forearm.
Somehow, a chunk of flesh was missing. There were no cuts to indicate the blow of a sword or knife. It was just gone.
'I left part of me behind,' Merlin thought hazily. 'If I'm not careful, travelling like this could kill me.'
He opened his eyes, blinking away the pain that seared at his arm. He lay, half sitting, half stooping over his wound, against the stone altar of the Gods. They were at the Isle of the blessed. This was where he'd battled Nimueh for Gaius' life so long ago. It was here that the faithful of the old religion flocked to worship. This was holy ground, where he'd come to do battle.
Dark clouds could be seen swirling ominously above the temple walls that enclosed the altar's courtyard.
"So you've brought us here to have our duel?"
Merlin leapt to his feet, spinning round to see Morgana pacing back and forth along the far wall. Her hair was a tangled mess of sweat and blood, both human and demonic. Long tears were ripped in her skirt, her entire look disheveled. But she had lost none of her menacing presence. Black threads still spun about her graceful curves. She was a demoness it seemed, taking human form.
"Rather appropriate don't you think, that the false Emrys should be killed in such a hallowed place by the people's true savior?"
"Please Morgana," Merlin pleaded almost wearily. "It…it doesn't have to be this way."
"Doesn't it though?" A quiet laugh escaped her lips. "You've made it clear that you believe the Weaver's prophecies, you believe yourself to be a prophet. Prophecy calls me 'the Black Dragoness', the darkness to Emry's light, the hatred to his love. Prophecy foretells that we're meant to kill one another. Have you lost faith in the prophecies, now of all times? Come along then. Finish me off once and for all. I'll enjoy seeing you try at least."
He lifted the Pilgrim's staff to the ready position, albeit reluctantly.
Their eyes locked. Cyan blue, the color of good and truth met bottle green, a poisonous hue that spoke only of malice and deception. Somewhere behind those green orbs, Merlin knew, lay the Old Morgana. Somewhere deep inside the woman who was once his friend still existed. The woman for whom he'd cared for deeply, and had once hoped would return his vain infatuation. He'd loved her in a way. She was the only other person who'd shared his need to hide his magical nature. She could've helped him. But he didn't let her.
Shakily, Merlin lowered the staff. He couldn't bring himself to do it.
"We don't have to fight!... Please Morgana. Can't we just talk about this? We…We don't have to fight." His voice cracked, trailing off.
Morgana's brows arched quizzically. Her lips curved amusedly.
"Very well then, talk. Nothing you can say will change anything. Nevertheless, my interest is piqued. Talk."
Merlin began. He had no idea what he would say, what arguments he would make, nothing was rehearsed. Each word was as new to him as it was to Morgana. All he could do was pour out his heart, and hope for the best.
"Why does it have to be this way Morgana? Why must we kill one another, destiny or not? I believe that destiny is what we choose to do, not what we're going to do. I chose to protect Arthur so that he'd become king. I could've walked away, gotten on with my life, but I chose differently. You killed the Pilgrim…me, or what I'll become. But now you can change your mind, become something different. You have the power to end all of this right now. Call off the demons, help up to rebuild what's been destroyed. Please Morgana, don't make these choices. Don't let your hatred consume you completely. Please!"
A long silence passed. When Morgana replied she sounded weary, and thoroughly skeptical.
"The old bearded man, the Pilgrim you called him, gave me the same speech. That destiny is tied up in what we choose to be. That I've made all the wrong choices. But tell me Merlin, haven't you chosen this destiny for me as well? This destiny for us? Since you became Arthur's servant you've made questionable choices of your own. Choices that adhered perfectly to prophecy. You chose not to tell me of your magic, even when I was desperate for any sort of help I could get. Do you know how often I contemplated killing myself, ending the endless string of nightmares that my life had become? You had to have seen my struggling, you and Gaius both. Yet you did nothing. You stood by while I suffered. What have you to say of those choices Merlin?"
"I…I can only say I'm sorry so many times," tears began to well in his eyes, driven down his cheeks by the overpowering guilt that branded his soul. "I wanted to tell you Morgana. I really, really did. I know what you went through with your magic. The struggle for control, the fear of how the ones you loved would react to the truth, I went through it all. So many times I tried to tell you but…"
"You did not," she finished icily.
"But I wanted to! But I didn't because I wanted to prevent exactly this! Kilgharahh, the great dragon, always told me not to trust you, that you and Mordred would be united in evil, and that you were my opposite, and that it'd be better for both of us for me to kill you before you could cause any trouble…I wanted to prove him wrong. Telling you the truth would only bring you closer to it all…I just wanted to protect you Morgana. That's all I ever really wanted. To protect the people I love."
Another pause.
Morgana turned and walked several paces to the side. She gazed off into the sky, fiddling absently with her skirt.
"'The darkness to his light, the hatred to his love'. That is what prophecy foretells of Emrys and his unmaker the black dragoness. The counter darkness to the child of the light. So you've tried to avert destiny and failed. Here I am, your greatest of enemies, placed here by your actions as well as mine. Prophecy is coming true. So perhaps you are Emrys, and it is the prophecy itself that is false. Perhaps they foretell the coming of not our messiah, but of a false prophet come to spout false wisdom. Another of your choices perplexes me, Merlin. The dragon told you of Arthur's fate to be Camelot's greatest king, and of your fate to bring Arthur's about.
Tell me, why did you follow the dragon's words? Why did you choose to protect Arthur? With power such as yours you could be king not only of Albion but of the entire world. It would be a simple feat to reach out with your mighty hand and wipe all who would oppose you from the earth. With power such as yours you are not a warlock but a god! Why then have you not claimed what is yours by right? Why do blubber about on the ground like a servant at his masters feet rather than seize kingship for yourself?"
"'Right'?" Merlin breathed disbelievingly. "Is that what you truly believe? That our magic sets us above other people, that it makes us gods? Before you claimed to be fighting against Uther's persecution, for our peoples right to live."
"They are the same," she snapped, turning back to face him. "Uther saw what ours powers could do, so he struck at us before we could claim what is ours. Power. Arthur is supposedly a king who will lead all men to greatness and glory. Justice and peace. But can my brother create fire in his hands? Can he shake the ground with but a step of his foot? No. Magic is power, Merlin. Surely you know that."
"Has Morgause poisoned your mind so deeply? Magic is a tool not a right! Arthur's rule will bring goodness to all people, magical or not. I was given this power to serve not to be served. It's gods will that Arthur will lead us to a golden age. That's what I'm here to help bring about, peace. Not my own place of power."
"Then you are a fool. And I am right. If it is your fate to bring about this 'golden age' then it is also your fate to dispose of those who would oppose it namely me." Suddenly one of the black threads that framed her form snapped and faded into the ether. Arthur had won. Morgause was dead. For a moment Morgana stared at the thread's former place. She looked up, face blank.
"You said the old man is who you will become, and that I killed him. Does that not seal the truth of our destiny? I killed you, and now you will surely kill me. I will fight you of course, and aim to win. But in the end fate determines all things, doesn't it?" she trailed off. Gold filled her eyes. Bolts of energy hissed into life between her fingers. Then, barely above a whisper, she spoke. "You said at the hill that Arthur's name will live on in legend. Fate has made that so. Legend will remember Arthur as the king of kings, and you as the great enchanter. But me, Uther's ward and Arthur's sister? No. I will be remembered as Morgan La Fey. Enemy of Merlin."
"You've gone mad," Merlin mouthed. Tears fell freely from his eyes. He fought back the urge to sob.
And then, Merlin raising the staff, Morgana lifting her hands, their duel began.
With a quick staff twirl Merlin sent her opening attacks spinning into the outer wall. They both took a staff back, marking their distance, and with the altar between them, they began to circle one another.
"Clousfan!" purple light streaked straight at the prophets chest. Again he twirled the staff and knocked them aside.
"Glathin!" Merlin shouted, snapping his wrist forward. A shield bubble bloomed around Morgana, sealing her inside.
Her mouth moved, though from within the bubble no words could be heard. The shield shattered, it's pieces dissipating into the air. In the blink of an eye Morgana darted sideways, lobbing spell after spell at her opponent as she went. Merlin stepped to the side, avoiding the attack. Still he launched no offensive of his own.
"Fight back! I know you're not weak Merlin! FIGHT BACK!"
She skidded to a halt, and began to wave her arms in great circular motions. Her eyes burned brighter, and the wind began to pick up. Cracks splintered across the ground. Chunks of earth rose up and began to swirl around Morgana in a whirlwind of stone. Fire crackled above her palm, and joined the frenzy. Weaves of magic looped from her fingers, and directed the barrage in Merlin's direction.
POP!
Suddenly Merlin appeared to Morgana's side. The projectiles turned in midair, but faster than a blink he was gone again.
POP!
POP!
POP!
POP!
"Arghghg!" Morgana shrieked as a heated blast made contact with her leg. Merlin was all over the place. One second he was one place, the next he was another.
Curling her fingers, she brought the swirling whirlwind closer to her body, shielding her from further attack.
More attacks came, seemingly from all sides at once. Blasts after blasts pelted her elemental dome like raindrops. It shook and crumbled in the air. Pain shot across Morgana's body, and she crumpled to a knee.
Merlin stopped, standing in a single place. Yet it still look as though at least a dozen different Merlin's were darting around the courtyard like rampant ghosts. The solid Merlin raised the Pilgrim's staff. Light shone at its tip.
A single tear fell from the warlocks nose.
Just in time Morgana brought the elements to protect her front, as Merlin came crashing into it. Both sets of hands wrapped round the staff, both their energy's focusing on a single point.
The energy exploded upward in a pillar of light and sound. Morgana found herself flung like ragdoll into the sky, and suspended there in a column of wind. Her eyes opened.
Merlin floated above her, eyes ablaze, staff raised high, face filled with sadness.
"I'm sorry," he said, bringing the staff downward.
Morgana slammed downward, landing on her back atop the stone altar.
"Liarana!" Merlin screamed. Lightning branched from the sky, and like an arrow from heaven, struck the dark witch in the heart. The last black thread unfurled itself and disappeared.
Merlin lowered himself to the ground. Walking at a snail's pace he made his way to the altar side. A sob wracked his chest, tears soaked his robed front.
A drop of blood dribbled from her open mouth, staining her pale skin.
Letting out another sob, Merlin knelt by her side, pressed his lips to her forehead, and wept.