The shadows tremble on the wall as Morgana waits outside the door, her shaking hands jostling the candlelight that she holds aloft. Here she will find the answer. Here she will learn the truth about herself.
She enters the room, quickly shutting the door behind her before shuffling towards the grate. "Merlin?" she whispers, glancing around in the dimly lit room as though someone is watching her in the shadows. "Merlin? Are you awake?"
"Hm?" Merlin murmurs from below, "Morgana? Is that you? Why are you here so late at night?"
"I-" she hesitates, once again looking around in fear. "I have something I want to ask you."
"Me?" Merlin asks, sitting up, "Can't you talk to Arthur about it?"
"He's speaking with the king right now. Besides, he- I'm afraid of what he'll do if he knows about this." Her voice breaks a little at the end, letting the fear she feels out into the open. She's never been so vulnerable before. Never truly opened up to someone like this.
"Is it really that bad?" Merlins asks with concern.
"Arthur can't know about this. No matter what. If I tell you, you have to promise me you won't tell him."
"I promise, now care to share?"
Morgana chews on her lower lip, once more glancing over her shoulder before continuing in a quiet whisper, "I- I think I have magic."
Merlin has to stifle a gasp as he stumbles back in astonishment. "Magic?" he whispers back, "are you sure?"
"Well, maybe. I don't know. That's why I came to you!"
"What makes you think you have magic?"
Morgana's hands continue shake in her lap. She can't say it. Not aloud. Saying it would mean admitting that it really happened. That's right. It was probably a dream. A bad nightmare. Everything must have been conjured by her mind.
"Magic isn't something you need to fear," Merlin suddenly says with a smile, "It's something wonderful. Something beautiful as long as you use it right." As though to accentuate his words he uses his magic to cause the candle flame to float up into the air and drift in circles around her. "Are you afraid of me?"
The words are quiet, even in the silence of the night, and are just barely above a whisper. Perhaps he had never meant it to be heard but regardless Morgana hears. She hears the silent question, the fear in his voice, the quiver as he speaks. Even Merlin is afraid of himself. Merlin, the boy who was born with magic, who has used it countless times is still afraid. Just like her. The thought brings her comfort. Simply knowing that there is someone else who feels the same way brings her reassurance. "I'm not afraid of you. Of course I'm not," she says, surprising the boy below.
Merlin sends her a sheepish grin. "Thank you."
Morgana returns the smile before she turns to watch the fire float around her. She holds her hand out, letting the light gently drift down into her palm before it flickers out. The darkness surrounds her once more, but for some reason she doesn't seem to notice it. Doesn't allow it to consume her. Instead, she holds the palm of her own hand out and, with a glance down at Merlin, wills a flame to appear in her own hands. She doesn't know how she does it. She can't explain it. Can't even describe it. All she knows is that it feels natural. Right. Like it's something that she should do.
The fire flickers in her palm, bathing the room with a gentle glow of orange. The warmth of the fire spreads through her body, gathering comfortingly in her centre as she stares into the flame. Of all the things she's done in her life she never thought that such a feat would be one of her proudest achievements.
Within only a few, short moments the fire disappears. Dissipating into the night almost as quickly as it had appeared. Morgana looks down proudly, feeling her heart swell with confidence as she meets the eyes of the boy below.
Merlin smiles up at her, but before he's able to say a word there's a series of loud knocks against the door. The sound echoes across the cell, the unfamiliar noise shocking the boy into stillness.
Morgana staggers back, feeling her breathing quicken as she peers down into the cell again, trying to keep herself hidden from view. When she looks through she finds Merlin standing now, looking terrified as he keeps his eyes locked on the door, hand outstretched.
"Who's there?" Merlin calls.
"It's me," a voice replies.
-----
The room is silent, the tension suffocating. Questions form in the minds of both parties. Questions about how, about why, and about why not, but none are ever asked as the pair stare each other down.
The prince doesn't move a muscle. Doesn't try to show how frightened he truly is. He had said the words in a fit of passion and anger. He had let all those pent up feelings he had kept locked away for all those years finally burst free. It was probably the worst and best - actually second best - decision he's made in his life. Best because he has finally built up the confidence in himself, in his views, and in his morals. Best because he has finally told his father what he really thinks. Yet, it's the worst because now Merlin is in danger.
Uther stands unmoving. Nothing is betrayed by his expression, not his emotions, not his thoughts. Nothing. He's silent - contrary to Arthur's expectation - and this silence is what makes the prince afraid. If the man had lashed out, yelled, or threatened him it would have been easier to deal with than this silence. This silence is maddening. It worries him. Makes him question what his father will do.
"Guards," Uther calls before two armed men enter the room, "restrain him. I'm going to find that bloody caretaker."
The guards reach out to grab him but he quickly darts out of the way, turning towards the main door behind him and running as fast as his legs can take him. If this is how his father wants to do things then he isn't about to sit quietly and let himself be taken in. He needs to find Merlin. Find him before his father has the chance to get to him first. But how? He's spent years searching. Years scouring every corner of this palace and turned up with nothing. How can he find it now? And with so little time?
He ducks around a pillar, waiting for the guards to run past before allowing himself the time to think. Should he head back to the council chambers and follow his father? He might lead him to where Merlin is, but by then it would be too late. What was it that his father said before he ran off? That he was going to find the caretaker?
The words stick in his mind. Caretaker. Was he talking about Mary? Or was it the person who brought Merlin his meals? If he's going to find Mary then why? It isn't as though she's involved... The thought trails off in his head. No. She is involved, because she knows where Merlin is.
He peeks his head around the corner, checking for any guards before darting out and heading down to the kitchens. He smiles to himself as he weaves through the crowd of servants because unlike his father he knows Mary's schedule and at this time of the day she would be down in the kitchen's fetching his dinner. He bursts through the doors of the kitchen, startling everyone inside.
"Prince Arthur!" The cook shouts, coming towards him rather menacingly with a ladle, "I thought I told you before not to come running in here looking for food. I'll tell your- Where do you think you're going?"
The prince brushes past her, ignoring the questioning stares from the other maids and servants inside and heading straight to Mary who stares rather worriedly at him. "Is there something wrong, my lord?" she asks, his meal in her hands.
"I need to talk to you." he glances around, seeing all the curious faces, "privately."
He drags her outside and into one of the storage closets. Again he peers around the corner before shutting the door. When he turns around he finds his caretaker staring at him with confused eyes.
"Where is he?" he demands, getting straight to the point.
"Where's who?" she asks, growing a little frantic, "I don't know who you're talking about!"
"The boy that my father has locked away somewhere. You know where he is. Tell me!" He grabs her shoulders before quickly letting go. "Sorry."
She shakes her head. "I don't know who you're talking about."
"Please. This is important to me. I need to find him."
Mary hesitates, looking over her shoulder at the shelves behind her as though she expected the king's eyes to appear from the shadows. "How did you find out?" she asks quietly.
"You never came on trips to visiting kingdoms. That means you must have had another task important enough that my father would allow you to ignore you're duties with me. Then, there was the time I saw you bringing a tray of bread and water to someone. No noble would eat that, only a prisoner. You knew about him. Why didn't you ever tell me? You must have known I was visiting him."
"How could I say anything? The king had forbidden me from speaking about him. If I had told you he-" she breaks off for a moment, "-he would have killed me. I was afraid of what he would have done."
Arthur sighs and nods. He can respect that. "Well, my father knows now and I need to find Merlin before he does. What he's doing is wrong. It's immoral! Please, take me to him. I promise I won't let the blame fall on you."
She looks down at the floor, contemplating his words. "So," she says with a small smile, "Merlin is the boy's name. I never knew," she looks up at the prince with a warm smile like that of a mother, "I've taken care of you for a long time now, my lord. I watched you grow perhaps even more than the king has and... looking at you now makes me so proud. You'll become a great king Arthur. Better than your father ever was. Come. I'll show you the way, but I'll tell you now that not even I have the key to the cell. Only the king has that."
"I'll deal with that later," he says, ushering her out the door, "for now please show me the way."
She opens the door, leading them both out into the hall. Arthur follows behind her, looking a little wary as he makes his way through the winding corridors. Eventually, after having headed down the stairs and through a number of dimly lit halls they find themselves in Camelot's dungeon.
After the pair pass the guards Arthur leans in beside her. "He's down here? But I've already-"
She raises a finger and shushes him. "No, you wouldn't have found it if you didn't know where to look."
She leads him deeper into the dungeon and doesn't stop until they reach an empty cell. There isn't anything special about the room. It looked the same as any other. Straw is spread across the floor, covering almost every corner. Arthur frowns as they enter the cell, looking around in curiosity.
"There's nothing here," Arthur says, kicking the straw around, "I've searched in all the cells before."
Mary smirks, pulling a key out from the pocket of her apron before kneeling down beside a loose stone. Again the prince frowns, staring with a peculiar gaze as he watches her pull the rock loose and stick her arm into the stone with the key. "I've searched there too," Arthur says, "it's just a loose roc-"
There's a click and the sound of something sliding open. Mary pulls the key out then slots the stone back in. She leads him back out of the cell, heading three doors down to another empty cell. She unlocks the gate then walks in and as Arthur follows he's amazed to see a corridor in front of him. The back wall had slid open, revealing a long corridor that stretches into an abyss.
-----
Merlin smiles as the little flame appears in Morgana's palm, the light chasing away the darkness around them. The fire burns brightly but even that couldn't compare to the smile that shines on Morgana's face. There's a twinkle in her eyes, a bright spark that not even the darkness can touch. Even when the fire goes out Merlin can still see that shimmer.
He catches her smiling down at him, her expression like that of a young child seeking the approval of a parent. Merlin returns the smile, about to tell her to go speak with Arthur when there's a knock on the door behind him. He stiffens, surprised at the unfamiliar noise. He sees Morgana stagger back above him, hiding herself from view. She looks afraid, terrified as the knocking grows more frantic. It sounds like someone's pounding against the door, attempting to break it down with nothing more than their fists.
A part of him is terrified. Afraid of what could be outside. Of what is beating down the door. There could be a monster, a crazed murder, or worst of all that man who brought him down here in the first place. What if it's him? What does he do if it's that man that comes down here? With that thought in his head he finds himself scrambling to his feet, backing himself against the wall behind him until he can feel the cold stone digging into his back. His breathing is growing shallow. It speeds up as his mind starts to collapse. That man is coming. He's going to die. He's never going to see Arthur.
As those thoughts swirl through his mind another part of him surfaces. An ugly part of him. A part of him that's nothing but a concoction of resentment, anger, desperation, and the thirst for revenge. His magic responds to his blood thirst, his want for the destruction of everything that man holds dear. He holds a hand up towards the door, feeling his magic concentrate into the palm of his hand as it readies itself to attack. The second that man opens the door he'll kill him. He'll tear him to pieces and finally gain his freedom.
With hands still shaking he takes a few steps forward, moving closer to the door as he calls out, "Who's there?"
"It's me," A familiar voice replies.