Chapter 12 - The Nightmare Returns

Arthur was falling.

He was too high up, falling too fast, and rapidly approaching the ground.

There was nothing but fear and panic on his face, and Morgana felt that same fear and panic resonating deep within her. She wondered whether it was her own fear or if it was his that she was feeling?

She could see that he was yelling, but his voice could barely be heard over the wind whipping around him as he pulmeted towards the earth.

The dread and terror was overwhelming. Not just hers and his, but all of theirs. Everyone was watching, and she could feel it in them too - they were just as afraid, but they weren't doing anything.

Why was he still falling? Why wasn't anybody helping him?

There was a stadium full of people just watching him fall.

Morgana was screaming and Arthur was falling and all of them were useless.

Except that one of them was smiling smugly. Why was he smiling? Why was his face so familiar?

But it didn't matter, because Arthur was going to die.

She didn't want to have to watch him die.

Merlin was running late.

He was usually an early riser, but he had been up late helping Gwaine with his potions essay. Merlin didn't have one to just let him copy off like last year - Gwaine's parents had insisted he stay in Professor Snape's classes instead of joining the outsourced professor's class, like Merlin had - which meant that they had spent hours getting it up to a standard where Snape couldn't just give it a D, for dreadful, out of spite.

But they had finished the essay, which was all that really mattered.

And so Merlin planned on blaming his lack of sleep and general haziness for the reason that he so violently flinched when an unexpected hand gripped his arm and pulled him away from the entrance to the Great Hall.

It was stupid.

So what if the hand clutched his arm a little too tightly, or that he was caught off guard and surprised to feel himself being dragged away? Merlin hadn't been back there in over a year. It was stupid. It was a stupid reaction.

"Sorry," he said, apologising immediately, surprised to find himself looking into the contrite expression of Morgana Le Fay.

He had barely seen her in weeks. Not that they had been close before she decided to start avoiding everyone. But with Mithian and Arthur as two of his closest friends, it had been hard to miss her general absence. That was why it felt so odd to be stood across from her. She had barely spoken to anyone in weeks, so what had changed? And why was she speaking to him of all people?

"No, I shouldn't have - whatever, it's fine," she said awkwardly. She looked pale and tired and, perhaps, even slightly scared. That alone was more than enough for Merlin to forget about her rough treatment of him. He was sure that she didn't mean it, and by the look of her, she had more important things on her mind than his comfort.

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly, eyeing the way she was almost swaying where she stood. "Arthur's been really worried about you," he added. In this state he was worried about her too. They might not be friends, but Morgana sure looked like she needed one right now.

He very deliberately did not say that she looked as though a strong breeze would blow her over. He might not have known her very well, but even he knew that Morgana Le Fay held her pride almost as highly as her brother did.

"I need your help," she told him, somehow sounding both very desperate and very reluctant.

"Let me get a Professor," he said, tentatively, placing his hand over the one she had still gripping his arm tensely. "Whatever it is, they'll know what to do." He put as much reassurance into his voice as he could. He noticed that it was a tone he had adopted years ago when talking to a worried Harry. He had never quite been expecting to use it on Morgana, though.

"No!" she denied quickly. "I don't trust them. Especially not Nimueh, she could be behind this for all I know."

"Okay, okay," he assured her, deciding not to push. He had noticed Arthur's similar distrust of Professor Nimueh, and wondered what it was exactly that the siblings held against her. Merlin had spoken directly to her only a few times, but each time she had seemed kind and helpful - especially when it came to his magic.

"We won't get a Professor," he agreed. "Let's just go and find Arthur." His friend would kill him if he didn't try and bring his sister to him immediately when she was in such a state. Arthur might have been a bit of an arse, but he was fiercely protective of the people who were important to him, and Morgana was at the top of that list.

"No, we can't!" she said frantically, her head shaking, her hair flying into further disarray. "You need to protect him. That's your job, okay? That's what you've always done, you need to keep him safe, Merlin."

"Arthur's in danger?!" he asked, panicked, putting aside any confusion he had at her vague words.

"You need to get him to drop out of the Quidditch game. Please, Merlin, you're the only one he'll listen to. He's going to die otherwise, and I can't watch him die. I can't lose another sibling," she sobbed.

Merlin wrapped her in a hug, acting on instinct alone, ignoring the part of him screaming that if Morgana didn't kill him for this then Arthur just might. She seemed to only cry harder once she was in his arms and Merlin wondered if he was somehow just making the situation worse.

"I'll help however I can," he promised, trying to reassure her. "But you need to tell me what's going on."

"Someone's planning on sabotaging Arthur in the Slytherin-Gryffindor quidditch match," she told him hysterically. "I don't know how exactly, but if Arthur plays then he's going to fall off his broom, and no one is going to catch him."

"Did you hear the Slytherin team planning something?" he asked firmly. "Because then we can just go to McGonagall and she can -"

"No!" she said, wrenching herself out of his arms. "You don't understand. Don't you think I would have done that if it was that simple?" she hissed. "Finding proof won't work, it didn't then, which means that it won't now. No, you need to watch Valiant. And you need to try and convince Arthur to drop out. You're the only one he'll listen to."

"You're not making any sense," he told her, wincing as her grip on his arm tightened.

"Merlin," she said, her voice more serious than she had ever heard it. "I need you to trust me. I need you to help me protect Arthur."

"I just don't understand what -"

"I helped you and Harry Potter this summer," she reminded him, her voice unyielding. "I didn't request any favours or ask any questions, but I helped keep your brother safe. Just do what I'm asking, and help me do the same with mine."

She sounded mad. He should tell her no and take her to Madam Promfrey. Or play along and bring her to Arthur. He shouldn't be considering doing as she asked.

So why was he?

It was clear that she believed what she was saying. She was truly afraid that Arthur was in danger and that Valiant was going to be responsible. But she had no proof, no real reason to believe so - at least none that she could tell him.

But what was the harm in doing as she asked?

"Just watch Valiant?" he clarified. "And try to convince Arthur to drop out?"

She nodded. There was still worry in her eyes, but noticeably less fear.

"I'll do what I can," he promised her. If there was even the smallest chance it would keep Arthur safe from some unknown danger then he would do so.

He sighed. "Look, I don't know what's going on, and I know we're not friends but you really should talk to Arthur. He's been worried about you for weeks and -"

"You're right, we're not friends," she said coldly, cutting him off and drawing away suddenly. "I came to you with this because you care about Arthur as much as I do. I trust you to keep him safe. But stay out of my business otherwise."

He nodded dumbly and turned away, shying away from her harsh glare. Despite the fact that she had come to him desperate for help, she was looking at him now as if he was her enemy, as if any concern he held for her was some sort of trap. Merlin remembered feeling like that - being suspicious of kind words, for they were so rare to hear. He hoped, whatever was going on, Morgana was not in a situation anything like his own.

He was confused and concerned and had no idea whether or not he should tell Arthur about the encounter. Morgana hadn't spoken to anyone in almost a month, and then the first time she did was to warn him that Arthur was in danger.

It didn't make any sense.

She didn't make any sense.

Morgana woke up that morning with a scream on her lips and her bed curtains on fire.

It had been a familiar scene, but at least this time she had enough control over her magic to extinguish the fire herself. Between all of the other girls screaming, Professor Snape coming to investigate the commotion, and the subsequent lecture she got on controlling herself, it took far longer than Morgana liked to notice the blood on her thighs and drying on her bed.

As if she didn't have enough problems to deal with today.

Arthur was in danger. She had no proof against his aggressor - Valiant, she realised quickly, the distance from the nightmare giving her the clarity she needed to recognise the face she had seen - and thus no way to get anyone to take her warnings seriously. It looked like her visions were back with a vengeance, and the only person who would believe her would be Nimueh, and Morgana was not fool enough to trust her with this.

She was tired and worried and in pain and she had no idea who she could turn to for help.

She needed Arthur to listen to her but Arthur had always dismissed her nightmares in Camelot as nothing but that. She had no doubt that the same thing would occur here. He knew that she had struggled with them since her parents died, he would surely dismiss this as more of the same.

But Morgana knew better now. She knew how to tell the difference between her regular dreams and her Seer dreams. She couldn't control it, but she could feel the magic in it. She wondered . . .

"Forbearnan," she whispered, cupping her hands, hoping to see a small flame appear there. But there was nothing. No rush of warmth filling her. No surge of power. No fire. No magic.

She did not know why her Seer dreams had returned but not the rest of her magic. Merlin's abilities had obviously returned with him, so why not her own?

She was useless like this. How was she supposed to keep Arthur safe with all the power of a thirteen year old girl? She needed Merlin's magic.

No. She needed Merlin.

He had been the only one to ever take her warnings about her nightmares seriously. And he was the only one she trusted with the power to keep Arthur safe.

Goddamnit, she thought as she rushed to find him.

She luckily managed to intercept him outside of the Great Hall, and his concern for her made her itch. She knew that she must look like a mess - she certainly felt like a mess - but she did not need his pity.

"You need to protect him," she told him. "That's your job."

But he didn't understand, and she couldn't explain it without sounding even crazier than she already did.

"I can't watch him die. I can't lose another sibling," she told him, stupidly - because she was tired and afraid and mourning her sister all over again. But she shouldn't have said that. Because Arthur didn't know anything about Morgause, and Morgana could not afford Merlin repeating her words back to him. But she could barely spare a moment to worry about that when it was all going to be meaningless if Arthur died.

And then Merlin was hugging her and Morgana was crying. The last time he had held her like this Morgana had been dying in his arms from the poison he had given her.

She cried harder.

But she couldn't get caught in the past, not when Arthur's life was in danger. So she shut that part of her down and focused on securing his promise to help her. And if she needed to bring Harry Potter's name into this then so be it, as long as it resulted in Arthur safe.

After she let him return to the Great Hall and his friends she found herself at a loss. Was she just supposed to go about her classes now, knowing that her classmates were planning to risk Arthur's life? Was she just supposed to sit through Defence Against the Dark Arts and wonder if Nimueh was behind this particular plot, just as she had been behind so many of the plots in Camelot? Was she just supposed to carry on with the knowledge that her sister was dead and that her brother might be lost to her any day now?

She was just so tired.

Morgana paused in the entry to the Great Hall. Students passed her, giving her odd looks, but she paid them no mind. Her eyes found Arthur, he was surrounded by his knights and his queen and his sorcerer, and his eyes found hers just as easily as she had found his. The raw concern in them was too much to bear.

She turned around and went back to bed.

Snape came to yell at her for missing classes without permission from him or Madam Pomfrey ,and Morgana barely restrained herself from telling him to fuck off. Instead she ignored his words and dismissed him with all the regal bearing of the princess she was once born to be. Watching his face contort in fury was well worth the detentions he threatened to sentence her to.

Morgana Pendragon had once spent two years in a hole underground, chained and starved, trapped next to a growing dragon, having to watch her precious Aithusa suffer, all the while the both of them longed for sunlight - for freedom.

A few detentions with an unpleasant (potentially murderous) man would be nothing compared to that. She had indured far worse than anything he could threaten her with. She did not fear him.

She just wanted to rest.

"If this behaviour continues, Miss Le Fay, I shall leave the Headmaster to deal with you," he sneered, and she had no doubt that he had been instructed to keep away from Uther Pendragon's children after the mayhem the man had caused this summer.

She smiled. That meant that she was essentially untouchable to him.

"As long as it is after I have had a chance to sleep, you will find no argument from me, Professor," she told him haughtily, her smile wide and false and ever so smug.

She took great pleasure in watching him storm away impotently. Severus Snape was a weak, pathetic man, and Morgana had far more pressing things on her mind than appeasing him. Currently, that thing was sleep.

"Miss Le Fay, there has been some concern expressed by several of your Professors recently. And while I understand you may not be comfortable confiding in your Head of House, that does not mean that the school can allow you to sleep through your classes. If there are circumstances that the school should be made aware of . . ." Albus said suggestively, hoping that he would not need to resort to calling the young lady's guardian. The headmaster had no wish to deal with Uther Pendragon again so soon.

"Circumstances?" she repeated sceptically, her eyes narrowed and her arms folded, unimpressed.

"I understand that you have discovered a new relation in Professor Le Fay. If this has caused some familial distress . . .?" he probed.

The young lady scoffed. "She is no family of mine," the girl said firmly. Her eyes were hard and full of resolve. Albus wondered what had happened between the two.

"But if you want circumstances," she drawled flatly, "then know that I woke up this morning from an awful nightmare to find I'd started my first period and that I'd set my bed on fire in my sleep. I believe that's enough to warrant me a sick day to rest." Her face dared him to say otherwise.

Albus found himself blinking confoundedly. Now that he looked, he could see that the girl was not looking her best. Her skin was pale and waxy and there were dark circles under her eyes. But that was not what confused the Headmaster.

There was a blatant challenge there for him to push her, to just see what she would do if he had an uncanny belligerence about her - an uncaring air. She seemed not care what he thought of her, she simply did not have the patience to deal with his questions.

He was used to some sort of lack of deference or awe from the Slytherins - the type that he usually received from his other students - but even then, their tones were usually tempered by some small amount of respect, or even fear, for the great wizard that he was.

Miss Le Fay's voice carried no such thing.

She did not have the upbringing of so many other Sytherins to despise him for being a 'blood-traitor', as they dubbed him. Nor did she have the admiration that the other muggleborn (or muggle-raised in her case, if her new relation to Nimueh was anything to go by) students did. And yet, she barely seemed to carry even the basic respect for him in his position as her headmaster.

Even at his worst, Tom Riddle had still known to fear and respect him. So what was it about Morgana Le Fay that made her look at him with such an apathetic stare.

"Of course," he said genially, "your absences today will be excused, though perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey is in order should such a thing occur again." Afterall, it was not uncommon for young children, even after a year or so of study, to still lose control over their magic while under stress. And should her magic have perceived her nightmare as a true threat to her, then it is understandable that the child might lose control. However, there was no reason to believe that it would happen again.

"Am I free to go then, sir?" she asked blandly. And once more, Albus noticed that the title was one of formality, but not respect.

How odd.

"Ah, not quite, my girl." He noticed how she bristled at the address. "You see, while this, of course, explains your absence for today, there is still the matter that your Professors have been expressing some concern for your behaviour over the past few weeks," he told her kindly.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," she said, looking him straight in the eye, daring him to call her bluff. After all, it was an obvious lie and they both knew it.

"There has been some mention of your lack of focus, a dip in your grades, you've been called uncommunicative, and you seemed to have been avoiding your friends also," he listed off, repeating what he had been told by Minerva and Fillius, infusing as much empathy into his voice as he could. "While you are at Hogwarts, your Professors have a duty of care towards their students, and your recent behaviour has been worrying, my girl."

"I appreciate the concern," she said, smiling falsely. "But I'm fine. Today was just a bad day. Arthur and I got into an argument a few weeks ago - I barely even remember what it was about," she shrugged before he had the chance to poke at her story. "I'll make sure to resolve things with him. Maybe then I'll be more communicative."

Albus skimmed the top of her mind, just enough to be certain that she was lying without invading her privacy.

She was, as he expected.

He resisted the urge to dig deeper, to find out just what she was hiding. He was sure that it was harmless, afterall she was a good child from a muggle upbringing with a devoted guardian, what horrid secret could she possibly be hiding? Although, if there was no big secret to be hidden, then there was no harm in taking a peek. It wasn't invading her privacy if she had nothing to hide, was it?

"Well then, I'm sure that's all it is, my dear," he said warmly, making sure to catch her eye as she stood to leave his office, having taken his affirmation for a dismissal. Although, in the end, he was rather glad that she did. It meant that she had already turned around by the time he had a chance to process what he had just seen inside her mind. Her back turned before his thoughts could show on his face.

It was as if her mind was ablaze. It was almost impossible to glean any information because the entire structure was such chaos. He could see pain and fear and sorrow and anger. So much anger. So much fear. And it was setting her entire world on fire.

His jaw dropped slightly as he watched her leave his office calmly, the very picture of composure, and wondered what he had just seen. He could not meld the two images together, of the young lady with such an icy exterior, and the burning chaos he had witnessed inside her mind.

But he did know one thing, that there was something very wrong with Morgana Le Fay.

Arthur had had no idea what to think when his best friend had told him that Morgana had cornered him before breakfast, looking panicked and fearing for Arthur's life. He had known even less when she had met his eyes from the edges of the Great Hall before walking away.

Her absence in their shared classes had been glaringly obvious, and Arthur had just felt more and more confused.

Though nothing confused him more than when she entered the Great Hall for the evening meal, took a seat beside him and called him an idiot.

"What?" he had responded dumbly.

"You're an idiot," she repeated, before sending a biting smile up at the high table and raising her glass of pumpkin juice towards the headmaster. "Pompous arse," he heard her mutter under her breath.

What the fuck?

"Are you okay?" he asked incredulously. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly a month, and this was the first thing she did?

She looked at him through tired eyes, and gave him a wan but genuine smile. "Survive the week, and I will be," she promised.