Hello my beautiful readers! Again, apologies for my tardiness, this was a rather complicated chapter to write! If you see the number of words you can tell it's ppppreeeeetttyyyyy lengthy, and that's because I may not be able to update for the next couple of weeks. The sad fact is I have AP Mocks and final AP Exams fast approaching and I need to revise like hell for the next 2 weeks or so. Therefore, there is very little chance that I will be able to update. SO, I gave you a nice, long, juicy, fat, and busy chapter to try to make for it. A LOT HAPPENS OK. I hope you like it! (I'm excited because everything is starting to click but gahhhh it means the fic is almost over, i'm guessing another 3 chapters maybe?)
Lie to Me: Red
THANK YOU FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE REVIEWING AND FOR EVERYONE WHO IS READING! I REALLY DO HOPE IT'S GOOD!
A soft voice woke Morgana in the night, pulling her from blissful unconsciousness, echoing familiarly in her mind, and the sorceress's eyes snapped open at the words.
"Sister, it is time."
Morgana shifted, looking up at Merlin's slumbering face, the words ringing in her mind. The moonlight turned his pale skin to ivory, and the sorceress was torn between finding him beautiful or adorable. His mussed hair stood in every which direction, like ink on her silk pillow, his breath soft. She could feel his heartbeat where she lay on him, slow and steady, just like the rise and fall of his chest.
Reaching over, she traced his collarbone, sketching patterns over his skin. Skimmed over his brand, drew over the long scars that stood jagged out from the rest of his smooth flesh. He shifted under her questing touch, and Morgana looked up just as his eyes blinked open, rich blue and faded over with sleep.
"Morgana?" His voice was soft and a little breathless as he pulled himself from his dreams.
"Sorry, I woke you."
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"Yes."
Merlin's arm tightened on her waist, a protective embrace that Morgana leaned into.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, but since you're awake, I want to try something."
He looked up at her questioningly as she pulled herself up and straddled his waist. Merlin took in the sight of her naked form with the barest hint of a smile, his hand reaching upward and playing with a curl that fell down her shoulder.
"While I was here with Arthur, I visited the druids many times. They helped me continue honing my magic, and they taught me certain spells that could be useful in many circumstances."
"What kind of spells?"
She smirked and Merlin raised his eyebrow, but he smiled at the mischievous look on her face. Her eyes glowed gold and his arms were pulled above his head, the wooden headboard growing arms and turning to manacles as they secured him down.
Before he could protest, Morgana leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, and Merlin silenced under her, back arching up to continue the intimacy when she pulled away.
The sorceress rested her hands on his chest, beginning to mutter under her breath. Merlin watched her carefully as she spoke the foreign words, watching her with a mix of curiosity and admiration and lust.
But it didn't take long for him to realize something was very wrong.
Pain was beginning to blossom in his chest, the sensation of something being tugged deep within him taking away his breath.
"Morgana, whatever you're doing, I don't think it's working—" he choked out, but still she continued to mutter the words.
Then white hot agony rippled down his body, and the tugging turned into wrenching, and he opened his mouth to scream when Morgana silenced him with another kiss, breathing in his cries, her body wrapped tightly around him, rendering him immobile. She continued to whisper the words into his mouth, and Merlin could almost taste the bitter taste of the spell.
The last word sent every nerve in his body on fire, and Merlin's back arched, body as taunt as a bow. He was frozen like that for a moment, breath coming in shuddering gasps. Then he fell back onto the bed, eyes clouded. A spell crossed his lips, and his eyes glowed gold, only to flicker out like a candle, returning to an agonized blue, magic failing him.
Merlin met Morgana's gaze, emotions running across his gaze.
"I'm so sorry," the sorceress choked.
His eyes narrowed but he said nothing, instead struggling against his bonds to pull himself up and give her a chaste kiss. It wasn't passionate or full of love or desire. It was a plea. A last ditch effort to bring her back into the light, a last ditch effort for her to see the right and the wrong, and with that plea Merlin fell back down into unconsciousness, his form limp beneath her.
Morgana wiped away a tear as it rolled down her cheek, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the forehead, feverishly warm beneath her soft lips.
"Someday you'll understand that I did this to keep you safe."
Merlin opened his eyes, a piercing light blinding him. He blinked, shifting.
That's when he realized he was bound.
As his gaze adjusted, he looked down to see shimmering silver chains wound tight round his chest. He was seated against the rough bark of a tree, the wood digging into his skin. Dressed normally, he wore a familiar red tunic and blue scarf, his body covered with a thick blue cloak edged with fur. It did little to stay the cold, and Merlin could see his breath as he breathed out into the frigid air.
"So you're finally awake."
Merlin looked up, meeting the gaze of a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and deep brown eyes. Her skin was fair, though her dress was anything but. She wore armor, similar to that of a soldier, a cloak the color of a blue midnight wrapped around her shoulders. A hand rested on the hilt of her sword, and she looked down upon him with narrowed eyes.
"Who are you?" Merlin asked, his voice ragged.
"Morgause. Morgause le Fey."
"P…Pl…Please. I was just following orders—"
"Whose orders? Who sent you to kill the prince?"
"Mm…Mmm…Morgause…Please don't hurt me…"
Merlin's eyes widened with recognition. He struggled against his bonds, stopping suddenly as they tightened around him.
"Yes, I wouldn't struggle, my pet. The more you move, the tighter they get."
"Morgause!" a familiar voice called out before Merlin could reply, and he watched as Morgana entered the clearing.
She was dressed in her armor.
"Morgana," the warlock demanded, once more jerking against his restraints, "what is going on? What are you doing-?"
"I'm sorry, Merlin. I never meant to hurt you, but I knew you would stand in my way."
"Stand in the way of doing what?"
"Taking my rightful throne."
Merlin looked up at her, dumbstruck. She kneeled before him, their eyes meeting. Morgana could see the horror in his gaze, and her eyebrows narrowed at it.
"You thought I would relinquish my right, just like that?"
"Why do you even want the throne!" he cried. "Arthur did everything we could ever hope for, he legalized magic! What reason have you to take the throne from him?"
"You think that Arthur will keep his promise? Do you even know the crimes he has done against our kind? Did you know that he used to come into these very woods and slaughter whole druid camps, women, children, and the elderly, innocent of all crimes except their magic? Arthur Pendragon is a murderer—those with magic will not have him seated on the throne. When one servant of the Old Religion makes a mistake, he will purge us like his father before him. No, not again. Those with magic will not take that risk, not when there is a rightful heir among them."
"But you too are a Pendragon—"
"Yes, but I am a daughter of the Old Religion, a high priestess. Vivienne le Fey was my mother, and Uther Pendragon was my father. I am a mix of both magic and non-magic, the perfect fit for the throne. I have a rightful claim, and with me as queen both sides would be happy."
Merlin shook his head. "These are not your words, Morgana. These are Morgause's. She's been out to kill Arthur since before the war—she sent the assassins the night of the masquerade! You cannot trust her."
"She is my sister, and was here when you weren't," Morgana replied icily.
"We fought because I told you you cannot take the throne. It is folly, Morgana. Even now, do you think Arthur will give you his kingdom? You think his armies will betray him and come to your side to crown you the rightful queen? Not to mention you would be fighting the combined force of both Glendale and Camelot, or had you forgotten that after so long we have finally just achieved peace?"
"It saddens me to go to war again, but now is the right time. We'll take them by surprise, they have no idea what is happening. We'll attack in the early hours of the morning, while the soldiers are still asleep and the sentries have begun to drowse off as their long watch comes to an end. Before the bakers bake their bread and the shopkeepers open their stores, we'll storm a sleeping castle, its guardians hung-over from the parties that shook the citadel just last night. Behind me I have thousands of magic users, druids and sorcerers tired of the yolk of the rule of those lesser than us. Not to mention the last High Priestesses, Nimueh, Morgause, and of course, myself. And we could have you."
Merlin closed his eyes and breathed out. "I won't betray them, you know I will not. This is madness, Morgana. Your gifts weren't given to you so you could wield them as a right to power. "
"And why not? I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion. In my palms I hold the power of the seven heavens and still I'm told to kneel before a man I could kill without uttering a word. Too long have we with magic remained in the shadows, it's time we took our place as leaders, no longer afraid of our abilities."
"This isn't you, Morgana. Please, don't do this."
"Someday you will understand, Merlin, why it has to be this way. Now you are blinded by your loyalty and by what destiny has told you, and I know that this hurts you. But when the war is won you will see your naivety, your folly, and you'll come to join me. We could stand together, side by side. We are the most powerful people in these kingdoms. We could bring about a time of peace and magic that people have only ever dreamed of."
"I will stop you."
Morgana laughed. It was a dry laugh. "And how do you plan on doing that, lover? I've taken your magic, it is bound to me now, and is useless. Now do you know how it feels to be helpless? You humiliated me in that court room two years ago, and today I stand here stronger than ever before. You betrayed me, but still I will fight for what is mine," her voice, once soft and accepting, turned suddenly sharp at his open defiance.
"You say I do not know what it means to be helpless. You say I have never been trapped by those I thought I could trust with my very life. Could it be, Morgana, that you have already forgotten what you did to me? In fear of magic, in fear of prosecution against yourself, you betrayed me. You humiliated me. But I forgave you. I forgave you a thousand times over." He shook his head, in disgust of himself, in pity of her. "So this is what it has come to. Remember when we fought together? Why is it that now we fight on opposite sides? Tell me, what went wrong?"
Morgana was near quivering with fury."You chose him, over me. You chose them, over us. You chose to leave me in the dark, to betray your kind," she spat back at him.
"No, it was you who betrayed us. Magic is supposed to be used for good-that is its true purpose. Not glory."
"Yes. Right from the mouths of wizened old professors. Don't you understand? No matter how much you protect them, no matter how much you serve them, they will never truly trust you. You are the thing that they cannot understand, and that shouldn't be something to be ashamed of."
"Don't—"
"You've pretended for so long that you've forgotten who you are. You may be willing to spend your days as a servant, to wait upon them and answer to their every command, to pretend that you are less than them, but that is not something I will do. I will not apologize for who I am. It's time those with magic fought back. It's time for a blow to be dealt for the likes of you and me, and if you are too weak to do it yourself, then it falls to me."
"Then I am sorry to say that we will fight on opposite sides tonight, and for the battles to come until you give up this madness."
"How will you fight against me? You have no magic, you have nothing."
"You're wrong."
"Then pray tell me what you have?"
"Your heart."
Her laugh filled the air again. "Perhaps, and it is the only reason that Morgause hasn't killed you yet. When I return, you will be singing a different song."
"Morgana, please, don't do this," Merlin begged, struggling once again in his bonds, ignoring the pain as they grew ever tighter.
"Goodbye, Merlin. I hope you will forgive me."
"Morgana!" Merlin screamed, but Morgause whispered a spell and the two sorcerers vanished in violent smoke, leaving the warlock on his own, deep within a forest in a land unfamiliar to him with nothing to do but choke against his chains, the taste of betrayal bitter and laced with steel in his mouth.
Morgana ran into the citadel, a heavy green cloak wrapped around her, hiding her armor from prying eyes. The sun hadn't risen yet, but the stars were beginning to fade and the sorceress could sense the birds shifting in their nests. Dawn was fast approaching.
Slipping in past the drowsy gaurds, Morgana made her way into Camelot's old crypt. She and Arthur used to come here and play amongst the graves, sitting down later on the dusty floor telling horror stories among the skeletons of the ancient dead. That was before Uther forebade their playfulness and put a sword in Arthur's hand and a needle in hers, back before they grew up.
Dismissing the memory, the sorceress pulled a rowan staff from within the folds of her cloak, wasting no time. She began to chant loudly, eyes beginning to burn brightly in the darkness. Then, with a cry, she slammed the staff into the ground, breaking the stone with a sound like thunder.
And silence.
Morgana breathed, chest heaving, feeling loose from the spell, and watched as rays of light shot from the rowan wood, illuminating the skeletons in the chamber until the whole room seemed to glow. When the lights snuffed out, the bodies began to rise. Skeletal fingers pushed aside their concrete tombs, pried themselves from their alcoves in the splitting walls, and broke out from beneath her .Slowly the army of the undead rose on shaking feet, the clicking of their bones loud in the echoing chamber.
Breathing out, Morgana sent the message to her sister. Even if Arthur could fend against Morgause and Nimueh's joint attack from outside the citadel, there was no way Camelot could withstand an assault from within—especially if the attackers couldn't be killed.
Turning towards her rising army, Morgana's eyes glowed gold once more.
"Take the citadel, kill only those who choose to defy you. The king and the queen are mine."
One by one, the skeletons nodded and departed, and with a quick spell Morgana armed her soldiers with rusted steel blades that they gripped tightly, their jaws forming unnerving smiles in the darkness. Not for the first time, Morgana felt unease in her belly, but she clutched to Morgause's words and followed the undead into the still sleeping citadel.
Morgause turned to Nimueh as light began to appear on the horizon. The two priestesses rode in front of the resting citadel, with them only seven riders. Immortal knights clad in black, riding horses of ebony, awoken by the Priestesses by the fires of Idirsholas. Morgause wore her armor and Nimueh only a ragged dress. The blonde wasn't worried—no one got close enough to hurt Nimueh anyway.
"It's time," her companion said softly, long, knotted locks held back a clip made of ivory dragon bone, dress tattered and crimson. Morgause appraised the beautiful woman by her side, Nimueh's liquid voice echoing with power whenever she spoke. Soft jawlines and soft pale skin and eyes the bluest of blues, the sorceress was a vision.
Their eyes flared gold as they called upon their army. Around them, hundreds of vengeful druids and vindictive sorcerers arrived in blasts of smoke. The ultimate surprise. They began to approach the citadel, and only when they could knock on the front gate did the great bells of Camelot toll, and the castle realize that it was under attack.
Turning to Nimueh, Morgause nodded and the two priestesses began to chant, eyes blazing.
"Thurh minum gewealde ond thinum maegen... geclippath we thone lieg the ealla awestath."
Morgause smiled grimly as devastating fire balls topped the great walls and smashed into the city as though cast from unseen catapults. Well,that should get their attention…
Arthur awoke to screaming. The cries ripped him from his dreams and he shot up in bed, sheet falling off his shirtless form. His first instinct told him it was a nightmare—until the screams continued in his very awake state. Leaping from bed, the young king quickly pulled on a mail tunic and a leather jerkin—there was no time for armor now. Still attaching the sword to his waist, Arthur threw open the door to his chambers to find Gwenivere about to open them, dressed similarly.
"Do you know what's going on?" Arthur asked.
The queen shook her head and Arthur sent off in a sprint down the deserted corridor, Gwenivere at his heels. Bursting into the main hall, the king skidded to a halt.
A guard before them gurgled as a skeleton slit his throat, the blood spilling on the ground as the young man choked out his last breaths. Then the skeleton turned to look at them, smiling. Its ivory bones were splashed with gore, its forearms stained crimson and the sword in its hand dripping rubies.
Magic. Arthur tried to suppress a shiver as he approached the unnatural being. Holding out his sword, the king lunged forward.
Where are you, Merlin?
The warlock struggled in the chains, but still they mercilessly grew tighter. His chest was crushed under their unforgiving grip, and breathing was becoming difficult. Throwing his head back, Merlin called as loudly as he could into the night sky, shouting at the top of his bruising lungs what he had been doing for what felt like centuries.
But still the dragons would not come.
He could not feel their presence, and Merlin attributed it to the loss of his magic. It left an empty hole inside him, and everything felt unnatural without it flowing through his veins. Yet still he had to try. Putting in the last of his strength the warlock screamed.
Come on Kilgarrah, even if I can't sense you, you should be able to sense me.
Morgana tore down the hallways, sword dripping. As she passed the shattered windows she could see the blood-red sunrise as it bleached over the horizon, painting the white marble of Camelot with a crimson glow. Any who stood in her way were felled. Servants and pages shrank away in her presence. Her journey was no challenge, and finally, she reached the heart of the castle—the throne room. Throwing open the large, heavy double doors, the sorceress stepped inside, the dark wooden throne staring up at her where it stood deserted in the center of the room.
I'm inside.
Morgause's reply was immediate, and Morgana smiled. Stretching her bloodstained limbs, she took a seat on the hard throne, resting her slaked sword on her knees as she sat languidly on the mahogany wood. Watching the sunrise bathe the room in red, the sorceress waited for her brother's arrival.
Arthur took the head of the skeleton with a resounding crack, Gwenivere stomping on the bones and crushing it beneath her boot. Spilling oil over the still writhing remains, Arthur lit it aflame and the two fiancés raced forward. It wouldn't kill the creature, but at least it rendered it incapacitated for a while.
They ran out of the building, nearly tripping down the marble stairs that led to the main courtyard, the once white stone slicked crimson with blood. Bodies littered the entrance to the citadel, and a force of red-and black-clad knights were holding off forces down the abandoned streets.
"Arthur!" Percival raced towards him, his armor bloodstained and cuts littering his bare arms.
"What is happening? Who is attacking the citadel?"
"Sorcerers, my lord, it looks like Morgause and Nimueh are leading them."
"Nimueh," Arthur breathed, astonished. "I thought she left the kingdoms years ago, during the Purge..."
Percival shook his head. "If she had, the lure of revenge was too sweet to ignore. They haven't yet broken into the main gates."
Arthur felt his teeth grind. "They have. We're being attacked from within. An army of undead are butchering everyone in the citadel. Have you seen Merlin?"
"No, I haven't seen him since last night."
"And Morgana?"
"She too is missing."
Arthur swallowed, turning to Gwen. "We have to go to the throne room. In times of trouble, my father used to always say to return to the heart of the citadel, and our enemies are sure to go there too." The king turned back to Percival. "I need to lead the people away from the city, get them out through the siege tunnels beneath the citadel and lead them to the Darkling Woods. I'm entrusting their safety to you."
The knight nodded curtly and set off running towards the Lower Town, and Arthur turned hesitantly to Gwenivere. "You should probably go with him, you'll be safer—"
"My place is by your side, Arthur. Let's go."
Smiling softly, the King turned around and the two monarchs raced back into the broken citadel, swords at the ready.
They'd been fighting for a whole day. Merlin knew it. He knew it by the way the sun rose in the sky, then peaked and began to fall, sunset approaching.
A whole day. How many could die in one day?
It felt strange. Being blind like this, being helpless like this. He was so used to leading the charge and knowing exactly what was going on, but now he knew nothing. All Merlin could see was the black column of smoke through the canopy of trees, and he knew it was Camelot burning. Gwenivere could already be dead, Arthur, Gwaine, even Morgana, and he would still be left clueless in the depths of these godforsaken woods.
It was in this state of despair that salvation came. The trees began to shake, leaves falling around him, burying themselves in his hair. A great wind rustled Merlin's cloak, and froze him where he sat chained to the tree, breathing a terrible task. An agonizing task. But finally Kilgarrah was there, great golden eyes wide and confused and fearful, an emotion Merlin rarely saw in those burning eyes.
"Young warlock, when the birds told us of the attack we came as soon as we heard, why did you not call us?"
"I did," Merlin said bitterly, looking up as Kilgarrah ran his claws through the chains, breaking them. "I tried, but Morgana bound my magic. I couldn't feel you in my thoughts, and I couldn't use my strength to call out to you from so many miles away."
"Morgana. So she has betrayed you and chosen the foretold path."
"Yes," Merlin said as a rose, suddenly stopping and looking up at the dragon. "Wait, you knew? You knew the prophecy all along? Why didn't you tell me—"
"—Because you never would have listened."
The warlock wrapped the cloak tighter around himself, rubbing his hands over his chest where the chains were sure to have bruised, breathing in deeply. Trying not to concur with the dragon's words.
"How do I get my magic back? How do I stop her?"
"She or one of her blood must undue the spell, or the enchantment's vessel must be destroyed."
"But the vessel is Morgana, so how can I-?"
"That is easy, young warlock. You must kill her. "
Merlin took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no there has to be another way—"
"I'm sorry, Merlin, there is no other alternative."
"No, no, it won't come to that. I'll speak to her, get her to see the truth. Her time with Morgause has blinded her, I can fix that. She has a good heart, she still has a good heart. I can do this, I can fix this."
Kilgarrah looked down sadly at the young man. "You can try." The words were as empty as a hollow shell, easily broken to reveal the hopelessness inside.
Coughing, Merlin straightened himself and breathed in, trying to gather his thoughts. "Send two of your brethren to help guide and protect the people as they flee the city, chances are they will be going through the tunnels. Another two send to look for druids that are still loyal to me, and not to the priestesses. For the rest, the command is simple." The warlock looked up at Kilgarrah with cold eyes. "Destroy their army, and if you can't, try to get them out of the citadel, to buy us more time."
The dragon bowed his head obediently, and above his head in the dimming sky, Merlin could see dark shapes descend from the cloud. Turning back to the great dragon, the warlock spoke softly.
"I have one last favor to ask of you, old friend."
As Merlin rode upon the dragon's back, there was a moment of peace. The wind, though bitter and cold, woke his senses, helped him see clearly. They flew over endless legions of trees, and when they finally reached the citadel under the cover of night, Merlin almost wished he was back in the bliss and solitude among the branches.
Camelot was burning. From the lower town to the citadel, rivers of flames blazed. From where he was seated high in the heavens, Merlin could see the tiny figures battling in the streets. Already the dragons lay siege to the army outside the door, and the warlock felt his blood chill as he saw powerful enchantments rise to meet them. There was powerful magic here, and if he was too be any help, he needed to get his back.
Kilgarrah dropped him gently on the roof of a turret, and the warlock quickly jumped off and ran towards the trap door that led within the citadel, the dragon's last words stopping him.
"Remember, young warlock, she betrayed you. Albion's end is nigh, and the destiny you would have shared with Arthur fading. You must do whatever you can to stop this."
Merlin nodded shortly, and Kilgarrah could see the pain in his blue eyes before he turned and disappeared into the burning castle, out of the dragon's sight and protection.
Morgana looked out from the window, the sunset blood red. The bodies of knights littered the throne room—many had come, and all had fallen. Arthur and Gwenivere were on their knees, bound in chains, blood seeping from their various wounds. Every now and then Morgana would turn around and meet their eyes, and each time it was a new and equally terrible emotion—betrayal, rage, horror, despair, sadness. Every time the sorceress would look away, looking onto her old home as it burned, watching as the people and the soldier's strength waned with every passing moment.
It wouldn't be long now.
The great door opened with a slam and a scream. Her guards fell dead into the throne room, throats slit. In from the smokey corridors strode Merlin, not clad in armor or a cloak, but carrying a blood stained sword. He looked exhausted, haggard, scared. Morgana could see the wounds that peppered him, but still the warlock walked in with his head held high, gaze hardening like steel at the sight of Arthur and Gwenivere bound and gagged.
"What are you doing here, Merlin?" she asked softly, unsheathing her sword and moving to stand between him and her prisoners. She could not even bring herself to ask how.
"Stop this, Morgana. You can still stop this before more die. Stop this madness, I am begging of you," he replied tiredly, sadly, blue eyes looked old and withered.
"I'm sorry, lover, I cannot go back now. I've chosen my path, and it is time you choose yours," she raised her sword, leveling it at him, and he gave a soft smile. Then he loosened the weapon in his grasp, opening his arms and baring his unarmored chest to her.
"What are you going to do now, kill me?"
"You don't think I can?"
Merlin closed his eyes and took a step forward. "Go on, make it quick."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I know, but I cannot let you hurt them."
Morgana smiled. "So it seems like we are where we started."
"Yes."
The pair were silent, standing across from each other, looking sadly at the other, waiting for them to make the first move. The throne room was disturbingly quiet, despite the destruction raging outside. Merlin's voice was eerie when he spoke next, one sound filling a space too large.
"Let them go, Morgana. Please, I don't want to have to do this."
"Neither do I, but I must do what I must do."
"Then I am so sorry, my love," Merlin whispered softly, beginning to circle her, running his sword down her own.
"You know you cannot win this, Merlin. I am better with the sword than you, and I have magic. "
"Might as well give it a shot. For Albion."
At that word, Morgana's eyes hardened, and she shielded herself from his half-hearted lunge, replying with her own. And then he just became another enemy, another sword to fight off, another foolish man to kill. Until her sword stabbed him in the shoulder and he stifled a cry of pain, and then he was Merlin again, clutching at his bleeding arm for a moment before straightening his shoulder and desperately continuing the attack, ignoring Gwen and Arthur's cries from behind him.
She dipped and twisted, turned and feigned, and it was obvious that he stood no chance. After another nick to the arm, Merlin staggered back. Without armor, every blow left a mark, and he could feel sweat running down his face. Morgana was quick, lunging forward and disarming him with a crushing bow, and he fell to his knees before her, the point of her sword against his quivering throat.
Then she lowered it.
Morgana bent down before him, dropping her sword and taking his face in her hands, lifting his chin like he had done to her so many a time, forcing Merlin to look into her eyes.
"You are fighting for a destiny, and you believe you fight for good. But have you ever wondered if the side you are fighting on is really the side of the right? Have you ever thought that maybe I'm correct about this? You and I are born of magic. We are creatures of the Old Religion. For decades Camelot has hunted us down and persecuted us. It is because of Camelot that you believed you were a monster for so long, why I always lived in fear and hate of who and what I was. But you know now...it doesn't have to be this way. Those with magic should be able to prosper, to live in peace. However, we cannot enter that peace until Camelot and all her allies answer to the murder of thousands of our brothers and sisters, the near extinction of our kind. Do you see them?" Morgana turned to where Arthur and Gwenivere knelt. "They are the enemy. Not me, not my sister, not the sorcerers who fight for justice. Make your choice, Merlin, will it be us, or them?"
Merlin looked into Morgana's eyes, and then shifted his gaze behind her. Out the window, the warlock could see the night sky, black as ink, and in its center a great crimson moon, so deep it seemed to be dripping blood, a ring of white light around it.
The warlock closed his eyes.
"When the blood moon eclipses, you'll have to choose, and that choice will either destroy or save the seven kingdoms. Young warlock, you have powers that you know not of, but be warned, all magic comes at a price, and your sacrifice will be the greatest of them all."
Opening his eyes, Merlin looked at Morgana. Even covered in blood she was beautiful, and the sincerity in her eyes took his breath away. He reached and took his hands in hers, rubbing his fingers over them.
"No more lies?" he breathed.
"No more lies," Morgana promised, a hope glimmering in her eyes.
"Then I choose you, Morgana le Fey, as rightful Queen of Camelot."
From behind him Merlin could hear Gwen and Arthur fighting against their gags to cry out to him, but all he heard were muffled sounds. Before him, Morgana smiled. She got to her feet and extended a hand, which he gratefully took.
"Thank you, Merlin. You don't know how much this means to me."
"Remember, Morgana. I love you. Nothing will ever change that. No matter whatever happens between us, never forget that I will always hold you in my heart."
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the window. Through the smoke and the dark he could see the dragons glowing in the light of the fire, wreaking havoc on the army below.
"Call off your dragons."
"I can't. Not without my magic. The only reason I could speak to them was because they found me," Merlin turned to her. "Give me back my magic, I'll call them off and we can end this war together."
Morgana smiled. "I wish I could, lover, but I'm afraid I cannot trust you yet."
"So when are you planning on returning it?"
"When you have proven your loyalty."
Merlin breathed out, looking back at where Arthur and Gwen knelt chained, looking up at him, tears running down Gwen's face.
"What will you do to them?"
"We will try them for their crimes against magic in court, and then deal out suitable punishment. Don't worry, Gwen has always supported the Old Religion so will probably not be harmed…too badly."
The warlock sighed. He reached towards his belt where he pulled out a water skin. Putting it at his lips, Merlin went to take a sip when he turned back to Morgana.
"There isn't much left, and who knows when you'll have the chance to drink again. You've used a lot of magic. Here, finish it."
"No, I'm fine. You—"
"Really, Morgana, you're dead on your feet. I've barely done anything yet, my strength will hold."
The sorceress turned to him with a smile, taking the pouch from his hand and raising it to her lips.
"Thank you, Merlin, you're a true friend."
"I think I'm a little more than that," he joked, walking forward and looking out into the night, staring at the fading eclipse, wiping away a tear.
Morgana clutched her throat and fell to her knees.
so...what do you think? I tried to make it like one of those action sequences where all the little bits happen at once and so I hope it works! I was planning to stop it at one point but I figured I might as well make it nice and long and I hope that somehow works!
I was a bit nervous about this chapter because it's kind of a new way of writing action scenes, so I'd love some feed back!
Thank you again and I'll see you all soon (hopefully!)