UNBETA'D. I'm so sorry, DarkAngel2112, but I just couldn't be late with this chapter after I was so late with last chapter :) Sorry! I want to post a chapter a weekend. So, readers, I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter Three

Xyla was angry.

Well, Xyla had been angry since she'd been captured a few days ago. One could even argue that she'd been mad since her family was killed by Uther all those years ago. But today, once her headache had faded, she was angrier than usual.

She'd sat through the headache in a kind of a daze, wishing inwardly that she could just kill Morgana and be done with it. She'd "woken up" from the daze with a sick feeling in her stomach that she couldn't quite understand.

Then she remembered the last thought she'd had as Merlin's nightmare faded from her mind, that feeling of panic and sorrow that wasn't hers, and the sick feeling increased.

She was guilty. All these nightmares… The sisters may have thought that he would try and find out where the dreams were coming from, but Xyla knew he wouldn't suspect that the dreams were from the actual Xyla. But they had to be ruining his sleep, probably driving him up the wall and sending him into a tizzy of anxiety.

As usual when she was thinking about Merlin, Xyla's hand reached up instinctively to grab her neckerchief, but she'd forgotten that it wasn't there.

Right. Morgause. Morgause and her magic-sucking, obnoxious spell-casting. She'd taken Xyla's neckerchief.

And that's when Xyla got mad. It was like boiling water had been inside of her, simmering and growing ever hotter, and suddenly the bubbles at the top began popping.

"Morgana!" she shouted, breathing hard. Her arms pulled pointlessly at the chains. It hurt her already sore wrists, but she just couldn't seem to care right now. "Morgana! Morgause! I know you can hear me!"

There was no answer, so she called again, louder: "Mor-gana!"

Outside, Morgana and Morgause paused in their sisterly plotting, identical annoyed expressions plastered on their faces.

"MORGANA!"

Morgana closed her eyes briefly, then looked at Morgause as though for permission. Morgause gave her a "be my guest" gesture, and Morgana stalked off towards the door of the dungeon.

"I don't suppose you could be a little quieter?" she asked as she leaned against the now-open doorway, having brushed aside one of Cenred's old guards, most of whom now answered to Morgause.

"Oh, why, do you have a headache or something?" shot back Xyla, too furious to care that her comeback left much to be desired.

Morgana's gloating, trademark smirk made an appearance. "I assumed you had something interesting to say, but I can leave if I was wrong."

"I want the neckerchief back," said Xyla.

Morgana's sneer turned into a full grin. "I'm afraid we can't. That would mess up the spell."

"I want it back! This whole thing is… stupid." She jerked against the chains again, feeling that the word didn't express her discontent suitably.

Morgana shook her head, her dark waves of hair splashing and bouncing across her shoulders. "Perhaps," she said, "when Merlin comes, he'll let you have his."

"Never, then?" snapped Xyla unthinkingly. "As if he'd fall for such pathetic, childish dreams!"

Silence spread through the room like blood seeping into water, clouding and growing until it filled the whole thing. Xyla felt the anger bleed right out of her, replaced with shock.

Oh, hell.

Perhaps, she thought hopefully, Morgana hadn't noticed… But no, the concerned, thoughtful crease of the witch's brows gave her away.

Xyla finally said it aloud. "Hell." She really needed a better curse word.

Triumph crossed Morgana's pale face. "Morgause!" she practically squealed. (Like a stuck pig, Xyla thought.)

Slipping out of the room and closing the door, Morgana ran to her sister, leaving Xyla to moan and sink lower against the stone wall. She'd really done it this time. No doubt they would put together what she'd said and what they already knew about her, and then they'd realize how to get Merlin out of Camelot: with plain speaking.

No doubt they'd want to put this new knowledge to use immediately after it got dark.

"Merlin," she said to the absent man. "We're doomed."

Annoyed by Merlin's refusal to talk, Arthur kept him working late the next day, despite the fact that Merlin looked exhausted.

"My chambers are a mess," he explained.

"I cleaned them yesterday!" protested Merlin, who was fighting a sudden wave of exhaustion. It had come out of nowhere, trying to force him to close his eyes.

"They're a mess again today. I wonder how that happened?"

Thus, Merlin decided that he rather hated his master occasionally. "Fine," he grumbled.

Arthur watched with only the barest flicker of pity as Merlin moved around his chambers, his eyes blinking rapidly. Merlin kept rubbing them, keeping gthem from closing. Arthur remembered Merlin's excuse of being 'tired'.

Well, that would teach him to lie to the prince.

And suddenly, as Merlin reached down to pick up a pillow, his whole body went boneless. His eyes snapped shut, and he collapsed in a heap. He made a loud thud as he hit the ground.

Arthur's heart immediately leapt into his throat, sending him across the room and at Merlin's side.

"Merlin? Merlin, wake up! Merlin!" The still body did not respond, so Arthur flipped him over as gently as he could, noting with some relief that he was breathing normally.

He shook Merlin to no avail. His face looked curiously pale. His eyelids twitched, but he didn't look ready to awake.

Arthur's heart sank. Was Merlin sick and never told him? When another minute of shaking didn't wake the manservant, Arthur sighed.

"Alright," he said, quickly crossing the room and throwing his door open, then coming right back as though drawn to the ailing servant. "Enough of this… Let's get you down to Gaius's."

Slipping his arms under the troublesome man's neck and knees, Arthur grunted with effort as he lifted the manservant.

"You know," he commented, "I have a feeling we've been here before."

Merlin's dead weight in his arms concurred. At least there was no poison this time.

He made his way out the door and down the hall, passing a guard who looked at him funny, but he waved the man off. Then he saw someone who wasn't as easy to send away.

"Merlin!" gasped Guinevere. "Arthur, what happened?"

"I'm not sure; he just collapsed."

She tsked worriedly under her breath. "Is he…?"

"He's breathing fine. Maybe he's sick."

She nodded. "I'll meet you at Gaius's… He's bound to need some fresh water." Smiling a little ironically, she added, "He always does in these situations." Then she rushed off, her lavender skirt flaring behind her.

Arthur kept moving down the hall, shooting a glare at the man in his arms. "See? You worried Guinevere."

He finally made it to the physician's chambers, still holding the unresponsive Merlin, sending Gaius into a very organized panic.

"Put him down," ordered the elderly man. "What happened?"

Arthur put Merlin down on the patient's bed, grunting again. He repeated to Gaius what he told Gwen. Gaius looked at Merlin, who wasn't moving at all, but a strange expression kept coming across the servant's face… Confusion? Pain?

"He looks like he's just sleeping," said Gaius.

Arthur watched him take the young man's pulse with worry. What if it was serious? What if he was sick or hurt? What had caused him to pass out anyway?

Gaius's brow furrowed in puzzlement, and he rushed over to his books to do his all-important research, muttering aloud to himself. "What could it be?"

Great, Arthur thought sarcastically. Gaius hadn't a clue what he was doing. Arthur had always been under the impression that Gaius knew everything. How was it possible that he didn't know what had caused Merlin to just collaspe, with absolutely no warning.

Was this what Merlin had been keeping from him? He pondered it again.

Merlin woke up. Just like that, with as little warning as he'd given before he passed out. The man just suddenly gasped in his sleep, giving a small cry, and sat up, nearly catapulting himself off the patient's bed. His eyes flew open, their bright blue wild with alarm.

"Arthur!" he cried before he even had the chance to look around or gather his bearings. "I have to leave."

A/N: Did this chapter come across as a bit silly to anyone? Hm...