Morgana.

Morgana had been an orphan for most of her life, bouncing between the walls of abusive and negligent foster parents and between the cruel and ignorant mockery of every child who had laid eyes on her. She was different, but in a way that you couldn't see. The other children hadn't cared that she wore glasses or was a little tall. They had cared because she had the scent of ash and lilies. They had cared because deep down inside they could feel the darkness that lingered inside her. They had cared because after a long day of teasing and bullying, Morgana would sometimes wake up another person. She would never remember though; the other person would never let her. Morgause was, after all, her guardian, and she would protect Morgana, whether she liked it or not.

It wasn't until Morgana had graduated and was moving on to university that she really found happiness. Gwen. Gwen was the poor and adorable daughter of the local barber, and Morgana was in charge of tutoring her in English and Grammar for a few quid. She needed all the money she could get.

The first time they met, Morgana had found herself dumbstruck. Gwen was this short, dark skinned, slender woman, who looked more like twenty-three instead of sixteen. Morgana had come to terms with her sexuality years ago, back when she had a fling with one of her foster mother's best friends. To say Morgana had enchanted her would be an exaggeration, considering Morgana had no idea she was magical, but there was a little intervention. How else does one get the city's "straight" mayor to offer her tea and crumpets naked? Gwen, however, seemed to need absolutely no enchanting. The dreamy gazes she would give Morgana as they went over omniscience in writing, the way their eyes would catch and hold for a few seconds when they would meet up after a week of not seeing each other., the way that the study dates turned into real dates and the way that—

Morgana felt a splash of cold water hit her face. Her eyes shot open and she tried to sit up, but she was held back by restraints. The room was foggy at first, but as time lapsed she watched the blurry silver trees turn into beeping machines and then watched as the moving shadow monsters turned into real monsters. Who is that?

Merlin. Freya. Gwen. Arthur. Basement. Elevator. Captured. Mordred.

Mordred.

"It's about time you woke up, my beautiful cadaver," Mordred whispered. Morgana, even in her distraught state, could hear the arousal and the pleasure Mordred was getting from having her strapped down. He walked in circles around the metal gurney she was on, studying her, watching her.

Morgana didn't remember much. It was all in pieces. She'd woken to find Mithian, that bitch, carrying her off. Morgana remembered that, for some reason, her magic didn't work. She remembered that when she had tried to struggle, Mithian had snapped her right leg in two. She couldn't remember anything after—

Morgana's thoughts ended when she saw the state of her torso. At first she didn't recognize it, but biology class quickly flooded her mind, as did the memories of her class mates, her subconscious trying to distract her from the horrors below. Morgana could make out her stomach, her real stomach; she could make out what was her intestines—there were metal clamps and gauze placed randomly inside her, but she couldn't feel it.

"Are you ready to tell me how to access the Fade?" Mordred asked. He twirled a scalpel in his hands.

"I don't... know what... the Fade is." Morgana replied. Her voice was weak. Each breath shifted her lose organs around, the movement causing them to slide abrasively around the metal toys Mordred had placed in her body. She glared at him through dense eyes as he laughed at her and he walked around the table again.

"Sad, but happy. Sad, sad, sad. But happy. Yes?" Mordred asked. He didn't wait for a reply. "Sad is you and happy is me because you are special. Special. Special." Mordred began to sing his words. "Special is you. Special is me. I'm going to love you, wait and see!" Mordred was standing next to her now, his voice was deafening and his words corrosive on her mind. She did her best not to panic, but the thought of never seeing Gwen again, never living again, never being home, they consumed her. She felt tears roll down her face.

Mordred licked his lips and leaned in, close to her cheek. He stuck his tongue out, catching the tear, and drew a line of saliva from the rosy reds of her face to the pale straight of her neck, down her naked chest, doing his best to leave his tongue on her nipple just long enough to make her shiver in disgust. There was no skin below her breasts; wherever it was, Morgana had no idea. She could barely contemplate how she was alive; let alone where her missing organs were. Mordred's tongue began to shake in pleasure as he ran his tongue over her ribs, looking Morgana dead in the eye, pupils dilated with arousal, mouth twisted into a thick smile as he moved farther and farther down, down past her stomach, past her intestines, down to where only Gwen was allowed to be. She looked at her arm to notice her bracelet was still intact. If only she could find away to remove it, maybe... just maybe Morgause could help.

A wet tongue and the feeling of teeth sinking into sensitive flesh brought Morgana back from her plans. She felt herself cringe and she screamed as she felt herself become ripped, as Mordred sank his teeth where they shouldn't be, as she felt her skin tear and Mordred's teeth ignore bone.

He left a few muffled moans as he licked and bit at her. The room started to spin and she felt nauseous, nauseous and scared.

Morgana felt herself falling again.

It had been a few months since Morgana had started tutoring Gwen. Morgana was impressed at how quickly Gwen could catch on to university level topics. Morgana herself had been a prodigy in language, fluent in everything from Latin to Spanish to French to German, and being able to write effortlessly and swap between them made her the perfect candidate to help Gwen. Little did she know that she was also the perfect candidate for her romantically, too.

They were spending time in Gwen's house, right above the barber shop in which her father worked. Morgana wasn't scheduled for today, but when Gwen called and told her she had an important exam in the next day, Morgana was quick to help.

"So, love in French is?" Morgana asked.

"Amour," Gwen answered automatically.

"Life?"

"Vie?"

"Yup. What about—" Morgana began.

"I have one for you," Gwen interrupted. Her face changed from a confidant visage to a more bashful one. She looked down at her feet and adjusted her posture in her chair.

"Puis-je t'embrasser?" Gwen asked.

Morgana blushed, and vibrantly at that. A million thoughts ran through her head, shuffling back to her midnight fantasies about making out with Gwen, touching her, taking her out. By no means was she in love, but something about this black haired dark skinned wonder made her shiver in her seat. "Can I kiss you?" The answer should be no. No, that it's not right, that she was her tutor and it would be abusing her power, that it would be abusing their relationship. But the way that Gwen caught her eye, the longing looks she would give, she knew that it wasn't wrong at all. It was perfect.

"Y-Yes," Morgana whispered. She scooted closer to Gwen, the distance between them close, too close to be formal anymore. "Yes you can."

Morgana woke up again. The room was dark now, not bright and lit like the last time. She looked down to her stomach and saw that all of it was healed. There was major bruising, but if you had looked at it you would have never known that it was once eviscerated. Morgana struggled in her straps, trying to get free, but to no avail. The lights abruptly turned on, blinding her for a few seconds. She looked around and saw him. Again.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Mordred mocked. His words were acidic against her ears. "Sleep well?"

Morgana turned away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. He slowly walked up to her, his bare feet making quiet slaps against the tile on the floor. Louder and louder they became until she could feel his body heat.

"Do you know why you're still alive? Morgana?" Mordred asked.

Morgana said nothing. She could feel his hands on the back of her head, touching something hard that was attached to her skull.

"This machine here, I built it. You see, it saps life energy from the air and surrounding creatures, and pumps it through this tube as stem energy. It prolongs any life, even if it should be dead." Mordred walked in front of her. He reached his hand out and clutched her jaw. His grip was fast and firm, holding her still as he looked into her eyes. "You see, milady, I can keep you here and do what I did, for as long as I want. You will never die." Mordred retracted his hand and shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, you could just tell me how to get into the Fade, and I'll kill you now, save you the pain that I have in store."

"I told you before," Morgana stated, "I don't know what you're talking-"

"You're a fucking liar!" Mordred screamed. He leaped up onto the gurney and threw his fist as hard as he could into her face. Morgana felt a tooth lodge itself in the back of her throat. "You're a fucking whore and a liar! Do you UNDERSTAND? YOU KNOW—" Mordred stopped and took a deep breath. His eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. "You know, you know, and if I have to cut every piece out of you to find the answer... I will." Mordred leaped off the gurney and picked up a bone saw from one of the tables around Morgana.

"I will find out the truth," Mordred whispered. He flipped the switch on his toy and watched Morgana's eyes widen with fear. Oh how he loved to cut.

Meanwhile...

Arthur's eyes gently opened, his head resting against something soft beneath him. He could hear a muffled voice calling out his name. The scent of wintergreen and vanilla filled his nose and he looked up to see Merlin.

"Arthur? Arthur?"

Arthur blinked a few times and, all of a sudden, there was Freya. Her long brown hair was dangling in his face. His head hurt, his body hurt, his jaw hurt, and he couldn't remember much. Freya grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him up gently. Mordred had set up some kind of anti-magic barrier, but Merlin had been at least able to heal Arthur's jaw before he'd put it into effect. Arthur sat on the floor, staring out of the black bars that held them in. Merlin watched him through Freya's eyes, wishing he could be there to comfort him.

Morgana screamed in the distance. Arthur flinched and looked up at Freya, but she already knew what he was asking.

"She's been... screaming all morning," Freya answered.

Hours lapsed, and the screaming stopped. Arthur continued to sit on the floor, starting out of the bars. Freya shook in surprise when Arthur spoke for the first time.

"You know, this isn't... isn't the first time this has happened – happened to me," Arthur gently whispered. He hung his head and brought his knees up to his chest. Freya looked at him confused. "Before... her... There was a boy."

Freya winced at his wording, but continued to say nothing.

"I met him a long time ago. He was the step-son of the man whose home we infiltrated today." Arthur's eyes became distant. "A-And I fell in love with him. But then he... he went away, and then I found Mithian and—but… but now she and... I just... I just can't anymore."

"Arthur..." Freya started, but she was interrupted as Arthur leaped up and wrapped his arms around her.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't." Arthur cried into her shoulder. "H-How many times do I have to be hurt before I can be... I just... He was perfect and I loved him and Mithian was just some stupid consolation prize but now—she was a-and—I… I was a fool. So stupid." Arthur let go and began to pace in the small cell. The veins in his head were bulging and he was shaking.

"Arthur..." Freya started to say again. "Arthur... what if… what if I told you Merlin wasn't dead."

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Freya—

It wasn't Freya anymore. Light shone from the crack in her forehead and it split down her body, fading and folding away until only a boy was left, a beautiful raven haired boy.

Merlin couldn't meet his eyes; he couldn't look into those blue oceans without feeling the deepest pit of guilt and remorse.

"M-Merlin?"