Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin… Guinevere would be scrapped altogether, and the entire legend would finish perfectly with OTP Morgana and Uther. So, obviously not mine then… =P

R&R please, m'lovelies!

Chapter Four:

Nimueh.

Merlin looks around. The breathtaking scenery is much the same as he would have imagined, although the vast expanse of lake does not feature in his previous mental picture. The young warlock's attention is captured by the beautiful surroundings for more than just a couple of minutes – There has never been landscape like this where he has resided previously. Stone castle walls and mud shacks count for nothing against nature.

He turns again, looking out over the endless lake. The bright sunlight is relentless as it flashes like lightning against the water, and Merlin closes his eyes briefly, ignoring it. He cannot let himself be distracted for any length of time. He has a task to complete.

For a moment, standing silent, Merlin's mind flicks back though the events of the past couple of months, from the moment that he had met Arthur, for whom he now worked. The boy smiles slightly, reliving the circumstances they had met under. However, throughout his entire time within Camelot, he has never so much as liked King Uther.

And he was trying to save his life. A change of circumstance indeed.

But this is something that Merlin knows he has to do. If anyone should sacrifice their life for the young prince, then it should be his manservant, not his father.

His proposal, Uther will resist. He knows that. Although, if the king was ever to discover what Merlin really is - How his son has miraculously escaped death every time it has come knocking – Then he will want Merlin dead in sooner events than these.

However, the young warlock's first task is reaching the stone ruins on the opposite side of the waters. A thin mist curls about the base of the island, giving the castle a daunting and eerie feel. It radiates power and mystics, and Merlin feels the magic within him surge. But he restrains it, and his eyes flicker from liquid golden, back to their original shade.

Faint ripples appear on the horizon as he scans the surface of the lake for anything that will aid him, and a battered rowing boat gently bobs towards him. A gust of wind whispers, creating another advantage, and the boat picks up speed, making its way slowly but surely towards him. He stands on the thin jetty, a small smile becoming visible across his features. Someone wants him to succeed.

It never occurs to the young warlock that this someone might not have his best interests at heart. He is more concerned with reaching the Isle of the Blessed…

Merlin stands in the tiny vessel, glancing around at the planks that create the curved base, sitting heavily and silently in the open water. No oars. He curses silently, under his breath, although he knows that this is what he has been born for.

Months ago, when Merlin and Gaius had met, he had used his magic for goodness. This is the magic that Uther fails to see. These are the moments when magic is needed – To help, and save the lives of others. Arthur's image creeps into his mind…

His eyes flash golden once more, the words becoming apparent.

"Kvarah mesa…" Merlin smiles slightly as his spell causes the faint wind to pick up sharply, and the small boat begins across the wide water, to save his destiny.

Uther takes a short step backwards, away from the woman who has been the source of the hatred within his heart for over twenty years, and glances around, back towards the stone archway. The stones are still there, marking the place where Uther had emerged from the water, onto land. Canals run through the entire structure, although that will not help his escape. The boat is gone.

A cold laugh emerges from the woman's lips as she matches the man's step, although hers is forwards, directly so, and intruding. She knows that he has abandoned himself, the second that he chose his path.

"You have grown old, Pendragon." She speaks, and her voice is naught but a velvety whisper in the silence. Yet Uther hears. The malice is clear in her words, although exceedingly so when her opposition voices his thoughts.

"And my loathing for you has grown with each passing day."

"Now now, my Lord…" Her red lips curve into a smirk as she mocks his title, dropping a brief and sarcastic curtsy, yet never takes her azure eyes from his dark ones. "Shall we not forget that you asked for her death…?"

"I did nothing of the sort…" Uther spits, his eyes blazing. "I wanted a son! I never wanted to lose her… You tricked me."

Nimueh takes two steps, crossed movements, as she begins to circle Uther, as though an animal and its prey…

"I was your friend! I made that mistake once. I shall never do so again." She glares at him, hatred in her own eyes. "It was half a year after my exile that I learned you had banished magic from the kingdom, even though you gave that command the day after…"

"And that was your doing. My kingdom was to remain peaceful. There would be no sorcerers to raze everything I had done!" Uther's voice grows. He is no longer afraid of her. He is more worried for what he might do, the mistakes he might make… "I brought peace to Camelot, to Albion. I am not to see anyone destroy that, least of all you!"

Nimueh laughs coldly. It is clear to see in Uther's words that he knows nothing of the various plots and plans that she has so perfectly schemed, with the intent on entire destruction of his life and family. Even over twenty years after his beloved Ygraine's death, he has never treated anyone as before, his love instead entirely for his son, his last remaining family.

"Every sorcerer wants to see you fall, Uther Pendragon…" Nimueh snarls, her voice cold, and filled with the bitterest of hatreds. Since she was a young girl, her one love in life has been her magic, her skill with words and power. Uther had taken that away from Albion the moment that his grief clouded his rational vision and judgement. "Even your own son would defy your laws and regulations, when he becomes king. He will bring magic back to your once-kingdom. He will see that your memory is tainted in bitterness, and tarnished in history forever more!"

Nimueh's scornful words, regarding Arthur, the very man that he has come to save, sees the red drop swiftly over Uther's dark vision. His right hand crosses his body, reaching for his sword in a single, swift motion, with the intent to strike out at her, but the all-seeing sorceress is faster than he. The king stands some distance away from her, although she covers the distance in less time than it takes Uther to blink.

She stands directly before him, her body pressed close to his, in an almost a affectionate gesture, although the taunting emotions clear in her eyes are anything but. Her bright red lips are a slash of distasteful loathing across her features, as she looks straight at him.

"I know what you have come to me for."

"Then you know what I will do to save him." The king speaks with the same vacant tone that he uses when condemning, his emotions never breaking through the blank façade he conceals himself behind.

"Of course I do, Pendragon." She laughs coldly, pressing the palm of a single hand to his tense torso. "I will gladly take your life…" Her voice is naught but a whisper in the anxious silence. Uther feels the tips of her fingers twitch slightly, even through the heavy folds of the tunic that he wears. He wonders of her motives, although he has no time to question, before she speaks again.

"Rathae tuuva faisiaita!" She commands, the smirk regaining its placeacross her scarlet lips as she voices her spell.

Uther registers the enchantment merely a second too late, as the entire world spirals. He flies suddenly backwards; his body is limp, the action forced by her dark magic, and collides with the granite alter. Exactly her plan.

The king's head cracks heavily against the stone, and he crumples at its base, weakened and almost entirely helpless. His vision blurs.

"I will gladly take your life…" She repeats, looking down upon his prone and silent form. With his last remains of consciousness, Uther hears her final words. "Although, I may not spare your son's…"

Blackness.