A/N: WARNING Merlin/Morgana during the next few chapters. Given that she's such a major character, the dynamics between Merlin and Morgana were something I wanted to explore, so there's a fair bit of the next few chapters dedicated to them. Arthur does take a lesser role for a few chapters but returns.

Merlin's face was blank.

He followed a path leading off to his right, down a small hill. He knew that was where Morgana was, somewhere down there. He didn't know what he was going to do with her. She knew about his magic, and it was only a matter of time before she knew about the rest. It made his heart heavy.

He was sure Iseldir would guess where he was going, but he didn't want Arthur following him, or Iseldir either, he wanted to do this alone.

No one paid him any particular attention as he moved between tents and past several campfires. The encampment was spread through the valley they'd entered, as well as the edges of the surrounding hillside, and its very size helped him blend in. He followed the magical trail through the valley, past colourful blankets draped over ropes that had been strung between trees and other washing drying in the sun.

And there it was, an unremarkable forest green tent pegged beneath the shaggy embrace of a huge, old oak tree. He knew Morgana was in there, his magic called his name. She was alone, he felt it in her lack of contact with anyone else inside. He leant back against the oak tree, placing his hands flat against the gnarled old wood, shutting his eyes, letting just a tendril of his magic drift out before he withdrew it again, allowing it to tell her he was here.

He knew when she felt the shift in the air, he sensed her sudden recognition of his presence, her anger, her fear ... and something else. He didn't move, and waited for her to come to him. She did, and when he knew she was close, he opened his eyes, and still blue eyes met stormy green.

She was wearing a muted tan druid cloak fastened at the neck, over a lighter shirt and dark brown pants. Her hair was loose. "How are you, Morgana?" His voice was calm.

She wasn't calm, she was wary and angry, and full of fire, she stopped within an arm's length of him, refusing to be cowed. He remembered how she'd been when they'd last met and almost admired her for it.

She started with the first attack. "You followed me here! How dare you!"

"I dare a lot of things, Morgana." His calmness was a mask, it slipped, she saw and took a step back. He pushed away from the oak tree and looked in the direction of the tent. He was cold. "Is she in there?" He knew she wasn't.

She didn't ask who he met. "No."

"I'm sure you won't mind if I take a look." He wasn't asking permission, and she knew it. He moved towards the tent, she wanted to stop him, but she didn't. He pushed his way through the flap and looked around, resting his hand on one of the heavy wooden beams supporting the structure. He wondered why he was doing this.

A large wicker basket stood in a corner, and beside it, was a table with a plum-coloured cloth draped over it. On the table was a stoneware drinking jug and two carved wooden cups. He picked one up, rubbing his thumb over the carvings on it, and felt rather than saw her irritation. Several intricately embroidered cushions were scattered on each of the two beds inside the tent; a dark green velvet gown was lying across one of them. He recognised it, and picked it up. "Yours?"

It wasn't really a question and she didn't answer, she was quietly fuming at the intrusion, he wondered how much goading it would take before she cracked. He wanted her to crack, he wanted to fight with someone, and she always rose to the challenge. And at least when she was fighting with him, she'd be honest.

He tossed the dress back on the bed and turned to the other. The bed was neatly made, a light chainmail shirt was folded across one end, and a pair of small caramel-coloured boots were tucked just under the bed's edge. He guessed who they belonged to. He nudged one of the boots with his foot; the boot fell over.

He tipped his head to one side looked at Morgana. "She's recovered, hasn't she?"

Apparently that was goading enough, she was across to him without thinking, thrusting herself into his personal space, trying to force him out of the tent. "She's not here, and don't you ever touch her again!"

He almost smiled. "I told you what you had to do to keep her safe, Morgana. Did you listen? Did she?" He stepped forward, challenging her, but she didn't back down.

Her mouth twisted, she was triumphant. "It won't matter! The druids have a protector! She went to find him, but he's here already, right now, in this camp!" She pushed at him, her palm flat on his chest, against his jacket, and he took half a step back. "You don't know all the prophecies, Merlin! I asked, and it's true, Arthur may be the Once and Future King, but you didn't know the real power will belong to a druid, to Emrys! He's the most powerful warlock who will ever be, you'll never touch us again!"

No. He wondered how she'd heard Emrys was here and felt a momentary surge of annoyance against Nathaniel, he'd told him to keep his presence a secret. "No, Morgana." He was almost gentle, almost sad, and it stirred her anger. "The real power doesn't belong to Emrys, rule and responsibility will always be Arthur's." Unable to stop himself adding fuel to her fire, he baited deliberately, "You're wrong, again."

Her hand flew up to strike him, the release of his magic was instinctive, without it he wouldn't have been able to stop her, she'd always been better than him in physical combat. He held her wrists as she struggled in his grasp, and he said lazily, aiming to antagonise, "Don't make me contain you again. I will, and it won't just be your magic either."

She didn't answer and he glanced down at her, prepared for more hostility, but her eyes were confused. He remembered and smiled slowly, he was right, she couldn't resist the magic pull she felt from him. Satisfied that he was about to win that round, he let her go, expecting her to concede, but she stepped towards him, instead of drawing back. Her hand fell against his chest, but she wasn't pushing him away, not this time, her fingers were warm as they slid up to brush against the skin of his neck and twist around into his hair.

Stupidly he discounted the heavy feeling in his own body, because she was his enemy and he didn't like her at all, but it was too late for that, too late for anything, because he'd totally underestimated this strange magic yearning taking hold in himself. She pressed herself against him, and he barely had time to realise he was in serious trouble before she tugged his face down or maybe he pulled her up to him, but in the end it was all the same, as her mouth slammed into his.

He was lost before it began, he kissed her back furiously, he couldn't fight the magic or himself, his mind screamed at him to stop, but his arms went around her and the kiss went on and on. He couldn't breathe but he didn't want to, she was poison in his veins, but it didn't matter, nothing did, except her and now.

His only awareness was the heat of her in his arms, and the fierce softness of her mouth as it moved frantically under his. His magic engulfed them, hot pressure and passion. He murmured her name against her lips, his fingers brushing across her face, cupping her head, weaving through the dark silkiness of her hair. She tugged at his jacket, he helped her take it off, and the material pooled onto the ground, forgotten. Her hands slipped up beneath his shirt, her fingers stroking against the bare skin of his back, and he trembled as she sighed her satisfaction with her find into his mouth.

Never had something so wrong felt so right. He couldn't stop kissing her, he couldn't get close enough, he slid his arms under the cloak she wore, holding her intimately, shaping her body against him. How long later it was he didn't know, but a tiny sane part of his mind suddenly registered that Arthur was calling his name, and the battle between them was over as swiftly as it had begun.

He was across the other side of the tent in an instant, horrified, ashamed and overwhelmed. He could barely look at her. He struggled with himself for control and felt the lash of her magic strike him as she fought her own war. His head reared up, the strike worked better than a bucket of icy water.

He glared at her and said harshly, "Control your magic and emotions or I'll do it for you, Morgana."

She returned the serve with her own hostile stare. He didn't trust himself to say anything more, he snatched his jacket up off the ground, turned on his heel and stormed out of the tent, almost smacking into Arthur. He made an enormous effort to rein himself in. "Arthur." His voice was flat, the prince was concerned.

"What's wrong?"

Merlin glared at the tent, thrusting his arms through his jacket sleeves with sharp, jerky movements. He said shortly, "Nothing."

"My Lord?" Nathaniel was regarding him anxiously, Merlin hadn't even noticed the druid. Gwaine and Lancelot were behind him. Merlin turned away, he'd told Morgana to control herself but the irony was he was barely able to keep himself in check. He was ready to shatter into a million pieces. He'd betrayed himself and his principles, how could he? Witch. His fists clenched.

The tent flap opened, Morgana walked out. Merlin's gaze zoomed in on her, she was back to ice, her hair perfect, like nothing had happened between them, which was just as well because nothing had. Her eyes met his, and then he noticed her face was still slightly flushed, and the reason for it made him go hot and cold all over. Her gaze skittered away from him, and shifted past Arthur and the knights, to Nathaniel, and she addressed the chieftain, her voice slightly strained, "Who did you just call My Lord?"

Nathaniel's brow creased and he glanced across at Merlin nervously, another time Merlin would have been amused, but there was nothing amusing him at all right now. What was wrong with him? She was cold and controlled and he was bursting at the seams, this wasn't how it was meant to be, he wondered if anyone had any idea how close he was to exploding. She didn't, but Arthur did; the prince's hand found Merlin's shoulder.

Nathaniel didn't want to answer her, Merlin had asked him not to reveal his identity. Until now, Nathaniel had no idea of any connection between them, but now, given Merlin's behaviour, Merlin could tell he was uncertain how to proceed. The druid stumbled, glancing across at Merlin, "Um ... " Clearly he didn't know what to say, whether he was allowed to say Merlin's name or not.

Merlin's mouth thinned, and he said flatly, to Morgana, "He means me, Morgana. Emrys."

He missed Nathaniel's relief, and felt rather than saw Morgana's shock, but he couldn't process it, he couldn't take anything else in, because the anger that was building in him was escalating too quickly. He was angry at her because they'd kissed and she'd made him feel things he didn't want to feel, angry because she'd chosen the wrong side, angry at himself because he wanted her and hated her all at once, perversely angry at Arthur for interrupting them, angry because he was ready to deal with Morgause right now without mercy and she wasn't there, and angry at Nathaniel because he was there and witnessing this. His anger at himself and her and everything else intensified until his head ached with the effort of trying to contain it.

He stared from Nathaniel to Morgana, and something in his face must have been terrible because they both took a step back. He recognised the look dawning on her face, that same fear she wore when he'd left her in the woods the other day. The terror of him, the monster. He was burning, he wanted to make someone else burn, his fingers itched with the urge to do something. His magic was screaming to be freed.

He focused on Morgana, and threw the words at her in mind speech, the one thing the still-rational part of him knew he could justifiably be angry about. "Don't ever defend Morgause to me again, Morgana! Tell her! Tell her if she tempts me again my retribution will be swift!" She blanched, and it made him angrier, he released his breath in a furious hiss.

Arthur squeezed his shoulder. "Merlin?" There was no response and Arthur said to Gwaine and Lancelot urgently, "Find Iseldir, now." One look at Merlin's face and they disappeared, Merlin barely noticed. Arthur tugged at him, but Merlin wouldn't move.

"Why must you side with her, Morgana? Why?"

He didn't know if the words were angry or anguished, but the mind speech was far too loud, and she put her hands over her ears, flinching away. He glared and felt his magic clench, before he knew it he was by her side, his hands on her arms, turning her to him. "Fight back, Morgana! Look at me!"

But Arthur hauled him away from her, his fingers digging into his shoulders, and shook him roughly, a warning. "Merlin, stop it! Now."

But his eyes were still on her and she didn't disappoint him. He watched her, his chest heaving, but then he saw her fear fade like it'd never existed. Why? He didn't understand. Her face became calm, and she said his name quietly, once, twice.

He stared at her mouth, and swayed unsteadily. Arthur had pulled him back but she stepped towards him, and then did something that stunned him to stillness. She stepped right into his personal space again, and said, "Don't, Merlin, you're not like this. This isn't you." Her hands slipped under his jacket, holding him around the hips but demanding nothing in return, she turned her head to the side, away from Arthur, and rested it on his chest, against the rapid pounding of his heart.

He was transfixed, his arms hanging loosely by his side, breathing heavily. Morgana's head was resting on his chest, and Arthur hadn't let him go either. If he hadn't been so overwhelmed he would have felt the awkwardness of it all. He blinked furiously, then Arthur tugged at him, and Morgana dropped her hold and stepped back.

The prince turned him around, Merlin stumbled. "Merlin, come on, we're going for a walk." He blindly obeyed the voice of command, and allowed Arthur to take him away from temptation, he didn't care where they were going, he let Arthur lead, and they strode away until they were further into the woods, away from the tents, alone.

Arthur stopped, his hand still on Merlin's shoulder. "What was that about?"

Merlin couldn't answer, if ever the time was for Arthur to call him a complete idiot, now would be it. He didn't know if he could speak. He was shaking, Arthur stood in front of him and took him by both shoulders. "Merlin?"

He wrenched away, spinning around, covering his face with his hands. He was so ashamed.

Arthur's hand was on his back. "Stop. Talk to me."

His breathing hitched, he felt like he was choking. "I don't even know where to start."

"Merlin, tell me."

He shook his head, what had he done? God, what had he almost done? He didn't understand himself. He said to Arthur, "Nothing went as I planned. I wanted to talk to Morgana, just, you know, talk to her ... But I was so angry, when I saw her, I always am, we always fight, I don't know why I thought it could be any different. But ... I thought I had control ... I had no idea ..." His voice trailed away.

"You fought?"

Merlin laughed, a bitter sound. "If only that was all we did! But no, oh we fought of course, but then ..." He shut his eyes, he couldn't admit to it this stupid, stupid lapse of judgement.

Arthur had already worked it out, possibly quite some time ago. "You kissed her."

The words burst out of him, "That would be an understatement, it was ... mad! I couldn't think! If you hadn't interrupted us I would have ... we would have ... hell, we were almost there." He murmured, almost to himself, "I didn't realise love and hate are so intertwined."

Arthur sighed. "You're this upset over a girl?"

Merlin was incredulous, didn't Arthur understand? "It's Morgana, Arthur! Have you forgotten she's tried to kill us all, many times, and probably will again? And I've done the same to her. It's so wrong! Why did she have to choose Morgause's side?"

Arthur waited, eventually Merlin sad in a more subdued tone, "I just can't understand why I did it. I don't love her, I don't even like her any more." His hands clenched into fists as he thought of Freya. "I'm sure I hate her. But I miss her, I miss the friend she once was. And I feel so guilty about her ..."

"Perhaps you don't really hate her, after all?"

"I do! Don't you?"

"Sometimes I wish I did. Sometimes I think I do. But then I remember what she was like when we were growing up, I can't so easily write off the person I've known most of my life, the Morgana who was good, who I teased and laughed with, who was a friend." The prince observed Merlin carefully. "And I remember how she fought with us at Ealdor, for you. She cared for us all, once."

She had, but right now he could barely think of anything except their kiss, it kept playing over and over in his head. "I kissed her." Merlin shuddered. "And even now I'd do it all over again, I want to do it again. What's wrong with me?" He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "And then later, outside the tent ... I nearly lost control of my magic, Arthur! I haven't been that close to losing control of it since I killed Nimueh, and I had so much more provocation then!"

"What do you mean?"

Merlin wasn't listening. God, the repercussions of either of these situations ... anything could have happened if his magic was out of control, the very thought made him sick with dread, he knew his power was increasing, the consequences of such loss of control could have been disastrous. He looked up at Arthur, his face tense. "Don't ever let me lose control of my magic, Arthur! I'm too dangerous!"

"I know that, Merlin, you threw your dragon across that field, he told me your magic was out of control when you did that."

Merlin shook his head, Arthur's words barely registering. He didn't know what was worse, almost losing control of his magic or losing control with Morgana; the possibility behind those consequences, god, his mind lurched to the ultimate consequence and he imagined a ... magical baby ... The very thought made him lightheaded with the horror of it all.

Kilgharrah had told him his future was joined forever with Morgana's. Surely he didn't mean ... because of ... a baby? He thought with a sick kind of faintness that their futures would certainly be joined forever if that was the case. He hissed through clenched teeth, "That bloody dragon!"

"What?"

No, what had he said out loud? Not that completely terrifying ... b-word? No, he hadn't said that, it was just dragon frustration again, he hadn't said anything about a ... his mind skittered around the word ... baby. The very word increased his nervous agitation. No, no, no! But hold on, he tried to think rationally, the dragon had been speaking kindly when he's said their futures were joined, surely he would have been amused if he'd been talking about a child between them. Or maybe he already knew it and he was being sympathetic. That damn dragon! Would he ever give him a straight answer?

He slumped down on a nearby log and tried to pull himself together. First things first, Arthur would hit him over the head soon if he kept behaving like this ... and oblivion might be a good thing. No, he had to stop it.

"Merlin?" He looked up at Arthur, the prince was watching his struggles with a kind of sympathetic amusement, and zeroed in on what was bothering him the most with uncanny accuracy, not something Merlin would have expected from him. "Don't worry too much about things with Morgana. Even after everything, I'm not surprised that the two of you are attracted to each other. You always were."

"No we weren't!"

Arthur gave him a patronising look. "You were. And you're protesting too much. And now that you both know about each other's magic, then ...?"

Merlin shook his head and wished he knew a calming spell to try on himself. Another question for Iseldir. "It's only the magic that's doing this Arthur. What else could it be?"

"Only you and Morgana can answer that, Merlin. Be honest with yourself, it'll be easier in the end."

"Huh, I'm meant to be the one that gives you advice. Why are you so calm about this anyway? She betrayed you."

"I know, I know she did. And I'm not that calm. I guess I need more time to work this all out, what I think of her. I don't hate her, not yet. If she'd succeeding in killing you, Gwen, or my father, I would hate her, I know that much. But I'm trying to understand her point of view. And maybe she thinks the same of me; I betrayed her, by not being someone she thought she could trust with her secret – like you. I don't know if I can forgive her for killing Camelot's citizens when the knights wouldn't submit to her rule. But then she would see all the persecution of magic users by my father, all those executions, as a betrayal against her by her own flesh and blood over years and years." Arthur shook his head. "It's complicated, I can't pretend there's an easy solution for any of us."

Merlin sighed. "I know, there's not." He was quiet for a long moment. "But that's not all, my magic Arthur. I haven't lost control of it for a long, long time. I can't allow myself to ever get out of control." He tipped his head back, staring off into the distance. "I'm afraid of myself, sometimes. There is a darkness inside me, Arthur. I have killed, to protect you. I have no regrets. I will kill more, if I have to. But you must curb me. You must tell me to stop when I go too far. Don't let me be a monster without good reason. Please."

Arthur crouched down beside him and nodded. Merlin looked off, back in the direction of the camp. "We should get back. I'm sorry ... about all that. This visit isn't going too well, is it?"

"It's alright, Merlin."

"No, it's not. I need to apologise to Nathaniel before he decides Emrys is an unstable monster, and I have to speak with Morgana again, too." He fidgeted and said to himself, "But in public, this time." He didn't notice Arthur's amusement, he said, "I really am sorry. And we must get back. Iseldir's called out to me already, but I haven't answered."

Arthur offered him a hand, Merlin took it and Arthur pulled him up. Arthur gave him a thump on the back. They retraced their steps back towards the camp, it was almost dark now, and Merlin conjured a floating light, an ethereal blue sphere, to help guide them back. He held it in front of him, in the palm of his hand at first, then flicked it forwards with his finger so it floated in front of them.

Arthur looked at it, something about it stirred his memory. "You've used that light somewhere before."

"Hmm?" Merlin wasn't really listening, he was trying to work out what he'd say to Morgana.

"The light, Merlin. I've seen it before." He remembered. "Where those spiders were, in the cave, when I was trying to find the Mortaeus flower, when you'd been poisoned."

Merlin looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe."

Arthur let it go. They'd reached the camp again now, Merlin turned his head away when they walked past Morgana's tent. There were other people around now, some of them were looking at them and the light sphere with curiosity. Merlin didn't think it was that unusual, but he made it disappear, he didn't want any attention.

Arthur led the way back to Nathaniel's tent, the chieftain was sitting around the campfire again with Iseldir, Gwaine, Lancelot and a few other druids Merlin hadn't met. Merlin made a point of walking straight across to Nathaniel, and said directly, "I'm sorry, for my behaviour back there." Nathaniel nodded, the slight wariness in his eyes receding. Merlin sighed and sat down on the log beside him, the druid moved over to make space. "I suppose you realise there's some history between myself and Morgana. It was wrong of me to show anger to you. I was angry with myself more than anything, and certainly not with you."

The chieftain gave him a rueful smile and said quietly, "You're fearsome when angered, Emrys. Your power is great. And love too, is a force to be reckoned with." Nathaniel hesitated then said intently to him, "It's an emotion that has the power to create great change. It will transform an enemy into a friend. Never underestimate what it can do."

Merlin was unsettled by the remarks. However he wasn't going to argue about it, or even discuss it. "Uh, right." He hoped no one else had heard. He chanced a sneaky glance around, Arthur was on the other side of the campfire, talking to a grey-haired old woman, the one he'd seen before, the one who he thought recognised who he was.

"Who's that?" He drew Nathaniel's attention in Arthur's direction.

The druid passed him a cup of hot tea. "That's Thea, our most talented healer. Morgana's sister, Morgause, owes her life to her. Thea's healing magic, combined with her talents with herbal remedies, makes her one of the most knowledgeable healers throughout Camelot and the neighbouring kingdoms."

Nathaniel lowered his voice. "Thea's magic is strong, she's one who recognised you as Emrys. I'm afraid I didn't see her in time to stop her mentioning your visit to one or two people. I'm sorry."

Merlin stared down at the liquid in his cup. That may explain how Morgana had known of Emrys's presence. He said ,"It's alright."

Despite his barely buttoned down agitation, the druid camp fascinated him, he'd never seen so many people with magic in one area at once. Not that they all had magic, it was clear to him that many didn't have magic or had so little they'd barely be able to make a leaf float on a windy day. He said to Nathaniel, "Not all your people have magic, do they?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "No. Many of course come to us because of their gifts, but others are here because they come with family or friends who have magic. Others still, prefer the nomadic lifestyle over living in towns, or find their acceptance of magic and the benefits it brings wouldn't be tolerated anywhere else. We don't turn away any who who come to us, but all must abide by our rules."

He said to Merlin, "Some druid clans aggressively make war with non-magical groups, but peace and tolerance is very important to us. We trade with nearby farmers, and occasionally buy supplies in Camelot." He lowered his voice. "Iseldir and your friends just told me about Morgana and Morgause's attack on Camelot. I'm sorry."

Merlin sighed. "Yes." He put his empty cup on the ground, he'd felt in a shift in the air that told him Morgana wasn't far away. "How healed is Morgause, Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel stretched out his legs. "Physically, she's almost fully recovered."

Merlin said bluntly, "And what of her magical abilities?"

"I don't know for certain, Emrys, but her magic feels very weakened to me. I haven't seen her use much magic at all here. In fact I haven't seen her much at all, she was too ill to leave her tent for some time, and now she's gone off somewhere."

Merlin nodded, Iseldir has essentially told him the same thing. "Yes." His eyes searched the crowd, he saw Morgana approaching the healer, Thea. Arthur had sat down with Gwaine. Merlin watched the two women for a moment and he said a name calmly, in mind speech, "Morgana."

She turned around to face him, and he knew enough from her posture to guess she was defensive again. He sighed and said, "I'm sorry. And I don't want to fight any more, tonight. Will you come here, and talk to me?"

She stared at him, but her eyes were unreadable across the campfire in the darkness.

He waited.

A/N: I know, I'm mean, I just wanted to make Merlin flip out a bit, and I thought that situation would do it. I also wanted to show a slightly darker, or less controlled side of him - sometimes he's just too perfect. And with his magic not a secret now I don't believe he'd always be so guarded about his reactions to stressful situations, as he has less to hide. And before I receive too many hate emails on this and the Mergana –it's AU remember? I'm not trying to follow absolute cannon in the show now as the interactions and relationships between them all would change significantly once Merlin's magic was revealed. I did try to write a bit more about Arthur's thoughts on seeing Morgana again but I just couldn't get it to work, sorry.

And thanks to those who've let me know they like the fic so far, I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know.