Merlin's Labyrinth

Summary: Fifteen year old Morgana is left to babysit her half-brother Arthur. But when she inadvertently wishes for the Sorcerer King Emrys to take him away, she must journey through a fantastical labyrinth to the castle to get Arthur back. But the only problem is: Morgana only has thirteen hours to complete her trial, and the path is fraught with dangers.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor Labyrinth.

It's only forever

Not long at all

But I'll be there for you

As the world falls down

You've run so long

You've run so far

Everything I've done I've done for you

"You're an hour late."

Morgana rolled her eyes, shutting the stained-glass door with a little more force than necessary. She turned to face her father, Uther Pendragon, and met his icy gaze head on. "I'm sorry," she groused, though she didn't mean it at all.

"Oh, let her be, Uther," said Ygraine as she descended the stairs, clasping an ornate ruby earring to her earlobe. "She just lost track of time, is all. She's only fifteen."

Morgana sneered at the blonde woman. "No," she disagreed haughtily, clenching her manicured hands. "I'm just tired of babysitting stupid Arthur every weekend."

This time Uther rolled his eyes. "It's not every weekend, Morgana. Don't be so melodramatic. And - you will not speak to your stepmother in that manner."

Ygraine only smiled patiently and placed a hand on Uther's shoulder. "We'll be late, dear."

Uther cleared his throat as he straightened his red tie. "I'm sorry, Morgana. But this dinner was arranged last minute by a very important man, and there is no one available to babysit but you. Now, he's already been fed and put to bed. We should be back around midnight."

"The restaurant number is on the fridge, should you need us," Ygraine said. "Call if there's any trouble."

"Fine," Morgana muttered, shouldering past Uther and stomping up the stairs. Her dark curls bounced with each step. She could hear her father and his wife arguing softly below her, but she tuned them out and burst into her room.

With an aggravated sigh, Morgana flung herself down on her pillow top bed, hair splaying across the satin green duvet. Her room was filled with trinkets of all sorts, from stuffed animals to books to music boxes to jewelry. Anything to cover up the white walls, she insisted to herself. It was nothing to do with Uther's attempt to fill the void her real mother's death had left.

The front door shut faintly, and a moment afterward the car started up and drove away.

She rolled over and spied her reflection in her dresser mirror. Her pale skin stood out against the purple puffy shirt she wore beneath a black denim jacket. She found that dark colors made her green eyes stand out, attracting boys of all ages. Not that ever dated them.

As she studied herself, something caught her eye.

With an indignant huff, Morgana sat upright, glaring at one particular spot over her slim shoulder. Then she whipped around, fierce gaze locking onto the empty space on the shelf.

"Lancelot!" she uttered, scurrying off of the bed. "Someone's been in my room again. I hate that! I hate it!"

Still shouting about the unfairness of it all, Morgana stormed out of her room and across the hall to the nursery. She startled Arthur to wakefulness, but found that she couldn't care less. The teen spotted her precious teddy bear on the floor just beside Arthur's crib and she quickly scooped him up.

And gasped in horror.

One of Lancelot's button eyes was missing, torn away. White stuffing poked out of the soft brown fabric. The remaining eye stared mournfully at Morgana, accusing her of not loving him enough, one of the last gifts her mother had given to her.

Morgana wheeled on Arthur, who wailed loudly and reached towards her, begging her to pick him up. His blue eyes were shining in the light, red face streaked with tears, and fine blonde hair sticking up every which way.

"You stupid baby!" she fumed, stamping her feet. "You stupid Arthur! I hate you."

Arthur's only response was to cry, the sound ear-grating. The front of his red onesie was soaked with tears and saliva.

Morgana dropped Lancelot on the changing table and then turned back, planting her feet and standing akimbo in front of her baby half-brother. "Oh, stop it," she admonished. "You have nothing to cry about. Little Arthur can do no wrong, can he? Stop it!"

When he continued to cry, Morgana deflated and groaned miserably.

"Oh, fine," she moaned, scooping him out of the bed and bouncing him in her arms. "Stop crying, Arthur. Come on, come on. Stop it, then."

The baby only continued.

Morgana scowled at him. "If you don't stop, I'll say it! I really will!"

Her words had no effect.

Feeling overwhelmed and abused, Morgana lifted Arthur into the air and said boldly, "Sorcerer King, Sorcerer King, hear me! I command you come and take this child away from me!"

Arthur gave a particularly loud shriek, kicking his tiny feet, and Morgana gave up. She laid him back down in his bed and tucked his soft blanket around him. She didn't bother when he kicked himself free and pushed himself up again, screeching.

Morgana turned her back on him, forgetting Lancelot. She paused in the doorway and turned back, jaw set. "I wish the sorcerers would come and take you away," she flicked the light off, "right now."

She turned and crossed the hall to her room, nose held high.

As she touched the cold metal of the door knob, everything fell silent. Morgana paused, an icy tendril of unwarranted dread squirming down her spine. She turned back to the darkened room behind her, eyes wide.

"Arthur?" she called softly.

There was no response.

Swallowing her heart, Morgana crept back to the doorway and peered at the baby bed near the window. It was shrouded in darkness, making it difficult to see. She was sure she saw a lump under the covers, though.

"Arthur? Why have you stopped crying?"

Silence.

She flicked on the light and hurried to the crib, gripping the top of the bars and peering down. The bed was devoid of Arthur.

"Arthur!"

She whipped around, searching for him. He couldn't have fallen out! But he was rubbish at climbing, too, wasn't he? He was just a useless, helpless baby! Where did he go?!

Her hands came up to tug at her ringlets. A despairing moan escaped from her throat when she was unable to spot him anywhere.

"What's the matter, Morgana?"

She whipped around, a scream trapped in her throat. In the doorway stood a tall, lanky man. He was dressed in a royal blue cloak, the hood thrown back to reveal his dark hair and sky blue eyes. His high cheekbones and full lips completed his look, but Morgana had eyes only for what he held in his arms: a sleeping Arthur.

"Give him back!"

The man merely raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But Morgana," he said, "you commanded I come and take this child, did you not?"

Morgana faltered. "You're...the Sorcerer King?"

"The one and only," he smiled.

"But..." She shook her head, grasping at the window curtains like a lifeline. "You're not real!"

"No?" The man stepped forward and crossed the room in a few long strides. Morgana tried to press herself back, but the cool glass of the window stopped her.

"Give...Give him back," she repeated in a wavering voice. "I didn't...I didn't mean it!"

"What's said has been said," he replied, shrugging. "There's nothing I can do."

"No," she whispered. "But you can't!" She was acutely aware that the only thing holding her up was the curtain, caught in a claw-like grip.

"I can," he said somberly. "But it works for the both of us, doesn't it? You'll have everything you want - all the attention, all the toys, all the love. And I," the man tickled Arthur's chin, the baby smiling in his slumber, "will have a boy to raise as a sorcerer."

"No!"

The man stepped back as Morgana found renewed strength. She lunged for the baby, but missed. Before she could try again, a sweep of blue fabric hid him from her. When the cloak settled once more, Morgana cried out in shock and outrage. Arthur was gone.

Hot tears stung her eyes. "You monster!"

"Monster," he repeated. "Fair enough. But one which you summoned."

"Where is he?" she demanded. "I have to have him back! He's my brother!"

"I offer you this," the Sorcerer King said lightly. In his extended palm, a small blue orb of light appeared, and then formed a thick golden bracelet. "It wards off nightmares. Much more effective than those pills you take every night."

When at first the bracelet had appeared, Morgana had looked at it in wonderment and longing, but then she fixed a mistrustful glare on the warlock. "How did you know about that?"

"I know many things," he declared. "Go on. Take it. And in return, you will forget all about little Arthur Pendragon."

"No." Morgana shook her head firmly and folded her arms across her budding chest. "I want my brother back."

"But you cannot have him."

"But I will have him!" Morgana insisted in the same tone she reserved for getting her way with Uther. "You give him back now!"

With a wry chuckle and a cocked eyebrow, the warlock's eyes flashed gold. The bracelet disappeared, and Morgana gasped and looked around.

They were no longer in the nursery, but in a strange land. She and the Sorcerer King stood on a sandy hill beside a deadened tree, the wind whistling past them. The sky was no longer starry and dark, but a drab gray that smothered the horizon.

He pointed over her shoulder, and she turned to look. Below them was a great expanse of a city surrounded by a tall stone labyrinth. The white castle in the center of it all stood tall and gleaming in the far distance. Several blue banners with embroidered gold dragons and borders hung on the outer walls of the labyrinth. It was quite beautiful.

"That is my castle," the Sorcerer King said needlessly. "If you truly wish to get your brother back, you must come there. You will have thirteen hours."

Morgana turned back to him, eyes pleading. "But how will I get through it? That labyrinth looks huge!"

The king smirked. "Turn back, Morgana," he said. "Turn back before it's too late."

Her expression hardened. "I have to get my brother back."

"Thirteen hours, Morgana. Or Arthur will become one of magic, and you shall never see him again." With that, the Sorcerer King faded, eyes flickering gold in the brief second she had caught them.

Feeling hopeless yet determined, Morgana turned back to the city.

"Thirteen hours, Morgana," she said under her breath. "You can do it. You have to get Arthur back. You have to!"

Mission resolved, she stepped forward and began her journey. Despite the fluttering in her chest and stomach, and the leaden weight of her feet, and the burning on the backs of her eyeballs, Morgana was determined to win. She was a Pendragon - the strongest of the strong - and a le Fay - the most beautiful and clever of them all. If anyone could do it, she could.

It took her nearly fifteen minutes to reach the wall.

As she neared, it towered over her head intimidatingly. But she was used to being intimidated, and she never backed down.

The wall was made of white marble bricks, it seemed. Idly she wondered how long it had taken to build such a masterpiece, but she pushed those thoughts aside in favor of searching for the entrance. But she could not see a door.

She looked both ways, then up and down with still no luck. Frowning, Morgana tilted her head back. Would she have to climb it?

Morgana was saved from trying (and possibly breaking all of her nails in the process) by the sound of approaching footsteps. She curled her lip and twirled around to face her adversary the Sorcerer King. Only she stopped short, a string of nasty words dying on the tip of her tongue, as she saw that it was not the King at all.

A young man with curly dark hair and piercing blue eyes was regarding her from a few feet away, where he had stopped. He was dressed in a careworn forest green cloak, dead leaves and dust clinging to the hem of the fabric.

"Hello," Morgana said quizzically.

He furrowed his brow a bit, but did not respond nor move.

"Can you...Can you understand me?" Morgana asked hopefully, clasping her hands and stepping forward. "I need to get into the labyrinth. I have to get to the Sorcerer King, you see. He took my brother! Please, can you help me? It's just - there's no door."

The man stared at her a moment longer. Then his eyes shifted to a point over her shoulder. Morgana turned her head to look, then nearly leapt out of her skin.

"That wasn't there before!" she exclaimed, backing away until she was a few paces behind the man. Morgana stared wide-eyed at the oaken double doors that were standing open in the wall. Etched into the wood were carvings depicting a dragon - the very same one that was shown on the banners on either side.

The stranger looked at Morgana over his shoulder, pale face blank.

Morgana swallowed hard, licking her lips. "Well," she said shakily, "I suppose it is magic, isn't it...I should get going, then..."

Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, Morgana started forward. She forced her heavy, clumsy feet to take each step, her heart to slow its frantic pounding. It felt like an eternity before she finally reached the gate, and she paused in the threshold to look back.

"Sorry," she laughed nervously at the man, who hadn't moved. "Do you happen to know which way I should go?"

She waited a moment, but received no response. Morgana nodded shortly and entered the labyrinth. The walls on either side of her were made with the same white marble bricks, and the ground was smooth and even. The doors swung shut behind her.

Morgana had never felt so trapped.

She looked right, then left, and then right again. Both directions appeared exactly the same in every way. There were no signs, no discrepancies. The aisle was deserted.

"I suppose it doesn't matter which way I choose," she said at last.

After one last look, she started right.

Her footsteps echoed around her, bouncing against the walls and reverberating forward and behind. Paranoia gripped her. Morgana often cast furtive glances over her shoulder, expecting someone to be following her. At any moment she expected the horrible Sorcerer King to appear, or perhaps that weird stranger she had met outside the labyrinth.

She squinted ahead, trying to make out a turn, but no such thing presented itself. Scowling, Morgana quickened her steps. Then she began to jog. Then she began to run. Then she began to sprint, feet pounding against the ground, sounds echoing maddeningly.

Finally she slowed.

"Oh," Morgana moaned, stooping to put her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "This is madness! There are no corners!"

She straightened and spun around, contemplating going back the way she had come. But she had already wasted so much time. And who was to say that the corridor was endless in both directions?

With a frustrated shout, Morgana threw herself at the outer wall, slapping at the white stones. When it didn't give way, she whole-heartedly abused the other, palms stinging. She dropped heavily to her knees, listlessly banging her fist. Tears burned her eyes, but didn't fall.

"It's hopeless!" she despaired, shoulders sagging. "I've lost Arthur. Oh, it's all my fault!"

"There is always hope."

Morgana's breath hitched in her chest, and she straightened, whipping around. There was no one there.

"H-hello?"

"Hello."

Blinking owlishly, Morgana turned again. In her shock upon seeing a blonde-headed woman kneeling beside her, she was unable to do anything, let alone speak.

The woman cocked her head to one side, smiling coyly. "Do not despair," she said. "What seems to be the problem, hm?"

"Who...are you?" Morgana uttered at last through her constricted throat.

"My name is Morgause," she answered. "But who I am is of little importance now. It seems you are in trouble. Shall I offer my assistance?"

Morgana swallowed. "Morgause," she repeated. "I'm - I'm Morgana. The Sorcerer King, he took my brother. I have to get to the castle!"

Morgause sat back on her heels, nodding. "I see. And you are lost?"

She laughed bitterly. "I suppose I am, then. There's no corners!"

"Sorry?" Morgause's brows pinched together in confusion.

"The labyrinth," Morgana clarified, forgetting the suddeness of Morgause's appearance in the first place. "It just goes on and on! It hasn't turned!"

Morgause gazed off down the corridor. "I see," she murmured. "You are not of this world."

Morgana's eyes raised. "Am I...supposed to use magic to get through here?"

"Not necessarily," Morgause replied. She stood, motioning for the younger girl to do the same. She pointed at the opposite wall. "Can you see it?"

"A wall."

"No," Morgause said. "A turn. A corner."

Morgana scrunched her face up in disbelief. "Is it invisible?"

"No." Morgause regarded Morgana once more. "King Emrys, did he tell you to come to the castle?"

"Emrys?" she repeated. "Is that his name, the Sorcerer King?"

"Yes."

"He did. I have thirteen hours to complete the journey...Perhaps less than that, now. It feels as though I've been here for hours," Morgana muttered.

"Hm," Morgause said. "I cannot stay, but I shall impart you with this bit of knowledge: Not everything is as it seems, Morgana."

"I've figured that bit out."

She smirked, and once again pointed to the wall. "Go through there."

"I can't go through a wall!"

"It's not a wall there," Morgause said patiently. "There is a turn, and a wall past that. Trust me."

With a relenting sigh, Morgana hesitantly stepped up to where Morgause had pointed. She looked back and received an encouraging nod. Morgana raised her hands and held them before her so as not to run face-first into the bricks, as she had expected.

Instead, she passed through empty air, and found herself in a corridor just on the other side. It had been impossible to see before, since the blinding whiteness of the marble had disguised it, but there was a wide space that acted as a gateway. Morgana wondered just how many she had passed.

Beaming brilliantly, Morgana turned back to Morgause, who was smiling in return. "Oh, thank you, Morgause! Thank you!"

"You'll be going, then," Morgause replied. "Go right. It will take you in the direction you seek."

"Thank you!"

Morgana skipped off in the direction she was told, much more lighthearted.

"Good luck!" Morgause called faintly.

Morgana was already too far gone to reply, sprinting down the corridor. This one had turns left and right, and the girl careened dangerously around corners. She didn't expect to run into anyone, anyway. The labyrinth seemed abandoned and little traveled.

"I'm coming, Arthur!" she huffed. "I'm coming!"

The wails of a fussing baby grated against the ears of the castle's inhabitants, echoing loudly down the corridors and pouring forth from the windows and doorways. Much to the consternation of his advisors and friends, King Emrys didn't seem at all bothered. He was lounging in his marble throne, peering into a floating blue orb of light as Arthur was passed from Druid to Druid in an attempt to quiet him.

"If I know Morgana," he said at last, straightening and vanishing the light with a flash of golden eyes, "she'll come for you." Emrys pushed himself to his feet, crossed the room in his signature long strides, and scooped Arthur into his arms. "Until then, I'll take good care of you, Sire." Arthur's cries finally ceased, and he looked tearfully at the calm king.

Emrys' eyes flickered gold, and the ball of light appeared once more, lightly kissing Arthur's tiny fingers as the delighted infant reached for it.

"Only nine hours and twenty-three minutes left," Emrys murmured, carrying the child back to his throne to sit. "You're all dismissed," he said to the Druids, who bowed and quickly took their leave.

Arthur gurgled happily as he played with the magic. Emrys turned his head to look out of the window that overlooked his labyrinth.

"A dead end!"

Morgana kicked the wall in frustration, then ignored the consequential throbbing in her toes. She turned around, tugging anxiously at a lock of her raven hair. This was the third time she'd gotten herself stuck and had had to turn back. She couldn't be entirely sure of how much time was passing, but it was certainly more than she liked. At this rate she might lose Arthur forever.

She heaved a sigh, then started off.

Then stopped upon hearing the chorus of snickers behind her.

Morgana whipped around to face them, eyes already narrowing in suspicion. Her jaw dropped.

"But there was nothing here a moment ago!" she said, almost whining.

"No, silly girl!" responded one man. He stood before a wooden door with iron inlay, above which read in harsh calligraphy Aredian.

"We've been here the whole while," said another who stood beneath Helios.

Morgana scowled at them, already distrusting of their conniving snickers and malicious grins. "Which way to the castle?"

The four men before each identical door all shared unreadable glances before returning their attentions to her.

"We can't tell you," said a dark-haired man in an oily voice. He stood under the marker Agravaine.

"And why not?"

The fourth man snickered, flicking his dark hair. He stood below Cenred. "It's against the rules!"

"Rules," Morgana repeated. "What rules?"

"Can't tell!" cackled Aredian gleefully.

Morgana scoffed. "Can't, or won't?"

They all exchanged looks again.

Cenred spoke up, "Both!"

The four men chortled, and Morgana rolled her eyes before storming up to them.

"Fine," she said. "Does one of these doors lead to the castle?"

"Yes," the four replied in unison.

"How do I know which one?"

"One of these doors leads to the castle," said Agravaine.

"One of these doors leads back to the beginning," said Aredian.

"One of these doors leads to certain doom," said Helios.

"One of these doors leads back to here," said Cenred.

Morgana frowned thoughtfully. "So I have a one-in-four chance of getting it right," she concluded.

"Precisely," sniveled Agravaine.

"You must choose," sneered Aredian.

After a long moment, Morgana stepped up to Agravaine. "How do I know you speak the truth?"

"You don't."

"Does Aredian's door lead to the beginning?"

Agravaine narrowed his eyes, which darted fleetingly in the man's direction. "No."

"Does Cenred's door lead to here?"

"No."

"Does Helios' door lead to certain death?"

"No."

"Does your door lead to the beginning?"

"No."

"Does your door lead to here?"

"No."

"Does your door lead to the castle, Agravaine?"

"No."

"Aha," Morgana stepped back, grinning smugly. The men regarded her suspiciously and curiously. She pointed at Agravaine's nose, and his lips curled in distaste. "Your door leads to the castle!"

He raised an eyebrow. "And how do you figure that?"

"Because you answer no to everything! So if you say that this door doesn't lead to the castle, but none of the other doors do, either, then this must be the door."

Agravaine scowled, lifting his chin. The other three whispered, but Morgana paid no attention to them.

"I choose this door, Agravaine," Morgana said.

"Very well, then," Agravaine sighed, stepping aside.

The door behind him swung open, revealing a straight path to the white castle beyond. Morgana grinned proudly. She'd figured it out! She was unstoppable!

Arthur was as good as hers!

Morgana flounced through the doorway, registering the snickers behind her too late. She gasped at the sudden weightless sensation, and time seemed to slow just enough so that she could look down. Below her feet was a deep, dark abyss.

Certain doom.

A high-pitched scream of terror was the last thing she heard as she fell.

It was cut short when she hit something. Morgana didn't know what it was, but it had both broken and cushioned the rest of her fall, so she was certainly grateful. She landed in a heap on a cold, dusty floor, and remained hunched over with her arms over her head as she was pelted with small pieces of debris and clouds of dust.

She coughed as the dust settled, shaking her head to clear her hair. Morgana carefully looked up, squinting. The small circle of light far above her was testament to how far she had fallen. There was no climbing back up, for sure.

She looked around, hoping to see some form of tunnel or door, some way out. But the oubliette revealed nothing - except the yellow bones of some unfortunate person like her. Gasping and turning nauseated from the sight, Morgana tried once more to get her bearings.

Morgana had to escape, now not only for Arthur, but for herself. She couldn't die!

She shakily pushed herself to her feet, then shuffled carefully over to the wall and felt around. There had to be a way out. There had to be something that could help her, even a torch to light her surroundings.

Plunk. A footstep.

Morgana froze, breath hitching. After swallowing hard, she managed to squeak out a terrified, "Hello?"

Plunk. Plunk. Closer, closer.

"Who's there?!"

Emrys frowned at the blue orb, absently bouncing Arthur on his knee. "She's in the oubliette, Arthur. Not good, not good at all."

Arthur cooed.

"But she must learn, I suppose," Emrys mumbled. "I'll not repeat my mistakes...Arthur, what do you think I should do?"

"Gahh bah bah bah," was his only response.

"Right," Emrys sighed. "Well, you're just as helpful as you usually are, aren't you, Sire?"

"Who's there?!" Morgana demanded, voice high and wavering.

A figure emerged from the shadows, throwing back the hood of his ratty green cloak.

"It's you," she said cautiously. She calmed down considerably, but she did not trust the stranger from the beginning of the labyrinth any more than she would trust doormen from then on.

"Mordred," he said - or she thought he'd said. His lips hadn't moved, and she was quite certain that it was not her ears that had heard the name. My name is Mordred.

"Mordred," she repeated, shaking her head. However he was speaking was most certainly by magic, and she no longer wanted to waste time questioning anything of its nature. "What do you want? To kill me? Well, have at it, then. Might as well end it for me now."

Mordred shook his head. I'm here to help you. Come this way.

"What's that way?"

Back to the beginning of the labyrinth, he answered telepathically. You can still leave. If you're here when the time runs out, not only will your brother be stuck here, but you will be, too.

"What?!" Morgana stomped over to him, glaring fiercely. "What do you mean? How do you know that? Why are you helping me now?"

Mordred shuffled backwards, slightly alarmed by her intensity. I...I don't know, he confessed. It's just...I don't know.

"You don't know," she said. "Then why should I trust you?"

Mordred shook his head, curls bouncing around his ears. Because I really do want to help, he replied. And I'm your only chance out of here.

"I can't go back to the beginning, Mordred. I have to get my brother back."

He exhaled heavily, wringing his hands nervously. Okay, okay, he said. I'll take you as far as I dare, but that's it. And you cannot tell anyone that it was me who helped you.

"Of course," Morgana quickly agreed. "How do we get out of here?"

Magic. Mordred turned to the wall beside him, outstretching his hand. Whispering husky, foreign words under his breath, the first spoken words she'd heard from his lips, Mordred's eyes glowed a startling molten gold in the darkness, briefly illuminating specks of diamond in the oubliette walls. A particularly strangely-shaped spot on the wall shimmered, and then the stone faded away to reveal a rickety door.

Morgana released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "And this leads to the castle?"

He nodded curtly, leading her through the doorway to appear in a dim tunnel. Torches burned along the dark stone walls, but upon closer inspection Morgana realized that they were not torches at all, but just balls of floating fire.

These are the tunnels beneath the labyrinth and castle, Mordred explained, starting forward. If we can find a certain four-way corridor, there should be a stair that leads to the wine cellar of the castle. From there, it's a simple matter of finding your way up.

"Brilliant," Morgana muttered, not looking forward to the climbing.

But all the same, she was incredibly grateful to the young man. He didn't have to help her, but for some reason unknown to them both, apparently, he had come for her. She would have to find a way to thank him.

Mordred gasped harshly, breaking Morgana out of her thoughts. He had stopped so suddenly in front of her that she nearly rammed into his back, but she halted just in time. Looking up, she saw what had frightened him: a floating blue orb.

It darted to the left, and they followed it with their eyes. The light illuminated a tall lanky silhouette, who leaned against the damp wall as though waiting for them. He probably had been.

"Well, well," said Emrys, stepping forward and revealing himself. "What have we here?"

"I want my brother back!" Morgana snapped, elbowing Mordred aside to stand directly before the king.

Emrys raised an eyebrow, and looked more amused than affronted. "So you've said," he said, "quite often, actually." His eyes switched from her furious face to Mordred's. The young Druid stiffened. "Mordred," Emrys said icily.

"My Lord," Mordred mumbled, dropping his chin to his chest out of fear and respect.

"Are you helping her, Mordred?" Emrys asked in a neutral tone.

"I..." Mordred's eyes darted to Morgana, who stared back. He licked his lips. "I was just...leading her back to the beginning, My Lord."

"Really?" Emrys mused.

Morgana's jaw dropped at the revelation. "Mordred!" she hissed angrily. "You promised! You said you'd take me as far as you dared!"

Mordred clamped his lips, shaking his head, and returned his gaze to the gritty stone floor. Emrys smiled humorlessly.

"Morgana," he said, "how do you fare?"

She fixated her look of betrayal back on him. "Very well," she sneered. "I'm having quite a lot of fun, actually."

"Really?" The Sorcerer King's lips turned up in a rather goofy grin. "I'm glad you are enjoying yourself. I love entertainment, myself."

"I will get Arthur back," Morgana declared. "I will get to the castle, and I will take him back. You will not win, Emrys."

"Ah, you've learned my name. Thank you."

Morgana growled in response.

"Well," Emrys said. "Since you're so certain of your victory, I'm sure you won't mind if I make it a bit harder?"

Morgana faltered. "But," she uttered.

"Have you ever heard of a Questing Beast?"

Mordred's small intake of breath beside her was enough to alert Morgana that whatever the Questing Beast was, it was not something she wanted to meet.

Emrys didn't seem to expect her to know, and so continued: "Quite a dangerous creature. It has the body of a leopard and the head of a venomous snake. It stands perhaps as tall as these tunnels." He looked up and round as though measuring. "Yes, that's right, I think."

"K-King Emrys?" Mordred asked shakily.

"Yes, Mordred."

"You don't plan on...?"

"Plan on?" Emrys repeated, grinning cheekily. "No. Already done? Yes."

Mordred immediately cast his widened eyes about, prompting Morgana to uneasily do the same. "Already done - what?" she asked.

"Summoned a Questing Beast, of course!" Emrys replied in a chipper tone. "Have fun."

With a flash of golden eyes, Emrys disappeared.

Despite having been betrayed by him, Morgana moved closer to a shivering Mordred. "He was only joking, wasn't he?" she asked. "Did he really summon a - a Questing Beast?"

Emrys is a man of his word, Mordred whispered, though his lips disconcertingly did not move. We must get out of here, quickly.

Morgana followed him for a few steps, but then stopped, gripping his wrist tightly. He shot her an alarmed look. "No," she said. "You'll just lead me back to the beginning."

No. He shook his head, eyes flickering furtively. I lied to Emrys! To you I spoke the truth. Please, we must get out of here.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Morgana demanded, her voice rising in volume. "You could be on Emrys' side, for all I know!"

"Shh!"

"No! You don't tell me what to do," Morgana snapped in her most Uther-like voice. "I'm the one who's supposed to get to the castle. I have to save my brother!"

Mordred paled, backing away, but Morgana gripped his wrist even more tightly, barring his escape. "M-Morg -" he squeaked.

"Prove to me that you're telling the truth!" she continued. "Prove to me that you're not on Emrys' side!"

He slowly raised his free hand, shakily pointing at something over her shoulder. At last registering the utter fear on the stranger's face, Morgana's fury melted away, and she painstakingly turned.

A humongous creature was crouched some distance away, watching them intently with its snake eyes. Behind it, a leopard's tail flicked back and forth patiently. A forked tongue tasted the air.

"Mordred?" Morgana breathed.

Run.

"Huh?"

His strong hand suddenly wrapped around her arm, pulling. "Run!" he reiterated, the word echoing in her head and through the tunnels. He took off.

Morgana stumbled after him, still watching the Questing Beast over her shoulder. For a moment it didn't move, but once they had turned a corner, she could hear it leap into action, hissing, claws scratching against the stone floor.

It careened around the corner after them, slamming bodily into the wall. The force was so great that it seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle.

"Oh, faster!" Morgana cried, seeing that the hideous thing was gaining on them.

Mordred suddenly stopped, a cry of dismay stuck in his throat. This time Morgana did plow into him, sending them both sprawling to the floor in front of a dead end. The Druid hastily pushed himself up, pulling Morgana along with him. He pounded on the wall beside them.

Morgana screamed as the Questing Beast lunged, talons stretching and putrid breath smothering her. The wall finally gave way, and the pair fell through, landing amongst the disintegrating bricks. The Questing Beast hit the upper remaining wall hard, and bounced back with an enraged screech. Morgana curled in on herself tightly to protect herself from falling rocks.

"Ladder!" Mordred gasped out, scrambling toward it.

Morgana was at his heels, gripping the wooden rungs and hauling herself up. The Questing Beast had figured out to crawl on its belly to follow after them, and then stretched to its full height to snap at her feet with razor sharp teeth.

Screaming, Morgana desperately pushed at Mordred's feet to hurry him up as he worked the door leading to their salvation, kicking at the monster with her own. At last Mordred shoved his shoulder into the trapdoor, unhinging it, and crawled out. Morgana gave one last kick, landing a painful hit to the Questing Beast's eye which sent it reeling back, and quickly followed. As she emerged blinking into the light, she caught a glimpse of Mordred's fleeing back as he disappeared behind a tall green hedge.

"Mordred!" she screamed, pushing herself up onto her knees. "Mordred! Come back, you coward!"

Hearing the snuffling of the Questing Beast below her, Morgana quickly located the covering to the hole from which she had emerged, and slammed the lid back over it. The Beast was silenced.

Panting and shaking, Morgana finally looked around. All around her were tall green hedges, and with a moan of dismay she realized it was another labyrinth.

"Oh," she sobbed, covering her face with her now grimy hands, "I hate this! I hate it!"

"Well, that's no way for a young lady to talk," said a voice.

Cries hitching under the lump in her throat, Morgana twisted and lowered her hands. An old man with hoary white hair had appeared, withered hands reaching deep into the hedges to pull out strange-looking plants, which he dropped into a pouch he wore over his faded red robe. He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it that you hate, young lady?"

Morgana sniffled. "This place. The people. The creatures. The magic. Everything."

"Hm," said the old man thoughtfully. "Well, you don't have to stay here."

"I have to get my brother back!"

If possible, the old man's eyebrow hitched even higher. "Your brother," he repeated. "And where is he?"

"In the castle. The Sorcerer King stole him!"

"Stole?" The old man regarded her. "Merlin, I daresay, has never stolen anything."

Morgana shook her head. "Not Merlin," she corrected. "Emrys."

"Emrys is Merlin," he replied. "Merlin is the name his mother gave him. Emrys is the name he took when he became king."

"Then it doesn't matter," Morgana exclaimed. "What matters is he has my brother, and I have to get to the castle to get him back!"

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Morgana."

"I am Gaius," the old man greeted. "Now, then. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Morgana shook her head. "No time. He only gave me thirteen hours, and I'm sure there is far less time left than that now...Do you know how to get to the castle, Gaius?"

"I do," he said carefully. "Why does Merlin have your brother?"

She sighed heavily. "Because I accidentally told him to, all right?! Arthur was crying and crying, and he'd torn off Lancelot's eye, and I was so angry, and so I called the Sorcerer King to take him away, and he did!"

Gaius nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Then I am afraid I cannot give you specific directions, Morgana. It is against the rules."

"What rules?" she cried desperately. "I just want my brother back!"

"I understand, Morgana," Gaius said. "Listen, I will give you as much I can: The way forward is sometimes the way back. Quite often, it seems like we're not going anywhere when in reality, we are."

Morgana stared at him. "What do you mean? I don't understand!"

Gaius smiled patiently. "Merlin is really not a bad man, Morgana. He has his reasons for everything."

Morgana scowled. "He's a criminal," she spat. "Thanks for your help, old man."

Without a backwards glance, Morgana started off through the nearest opening in the hedges. Gaius shook his head at her back, then went on picking his herbs as he lamented the impatience and absurdity of youth.

After Morgana deemed she had traversed enough distance so that Gaius would not catch up with her or otherwise run into her again, she stopped and studied the hedges. She reached inside, pulled several branches out of her way, hoping to see the other side. But the hedges were too thick; she would not be able to climb through them.

Morgana huffed and stepped back. There was nothing for it. She'd have to walk until she found her way out, and then go from there. And she needed to do it quickly. Arthur was waiting for her.

She worried that he was not being taken care of. Arthur was just a little baby. He needed warmth and softness, and sleep, and food. Well, Emrys did claim to want to raise Arthur, so perhaps he had a little magic-filled nursery of some sort. Morgana only hoped that Arthur was at least comfortable.

Morgana turned a corner, then stumbled back with a gasp. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with fright. She hoped the giant hadn't heard her. Morgana tried to listen past her heart thudding in her chest. There was no sound on the other side of the hedge.

Ever so slowly, Morgana crept forward to peer around the turn.

The giant was sitting on a stump in the middle of the pathway, hunched over. With his back to her, Morgana couldn't make out what he was doing. She eyed the sword on his belt warily. Why he had one was beyond her - the man was at least six and half feet tall with bulging, rippling muscles.

He suddenly shifted, and Morgana ducked back into her hiding place, stifling a squeak of surprise.

"Who's there?" demanded a deep voice.

Morgana closed her eyes in dismay. But she kept still and silent in the hopes that he would forget it. Giants were supposed to be dumb, right?!

"Hello?" called the giant.

She frowned. He sounded almost - frightened.

"Gaius? Is that you?"

Morgana shifted uncertainly. The giant really didn't sound angry. He was almost childish, in a way. Perhaps he was a friendly giant. After another moment's hesitation, Morgana decided to take a chance.

She cautiously edged around the thick green leaves, studying the giant before he could see her. He was looking around, one hand twitching toward his sword, the other cradled against his chest. She spotted a deep, weeping gash on his forearm. The giant was hurt.

At last his head swiveled toward her and saw her. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he immediately relaxed. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," Morgana said, still half-hidden. Her eyes traveled from his kindly face back to his arm. "Do you...need help?"

He looked down at his arm as well. "Well, yes," he admitted. "But it's all right. I was just searching for Gaius, the healer. He's usually around here somewhere."

"I ran into him a few moments ago," Morgana said. "He's picking herbs, I think."

The giant nodded thoughtfully.

"If you like," Morgana said, "I could wrap it for you. It looks painful."

"Oh," he said. "Please."

Morgana nodded and at last stepped fully out of her hiding place. She approached, and the giant sat back down on the stump so that she could easily reach the wound. For a moment she studied it, then was satisfied that it was not as bad as she had first thought. The giant watched her as she looked around for something with which to bind it.

"I know," she gasped. She pulled up the leg of her pants and slipped off her shoe. "I'll use my stocking, if that's all right."

"You'll blister," he said, brow pinching in concern.

"Don't worry," Morgana said, pulling off the knee-high sock. "The soles of my shoes are gel. They prevent blistering." She lowered her pants leg and stuffed her foot back into the shoe before straightening again, stretching the elastic white material.

The giant hissed as his wound was touched, but otherwise did not react. Morgana spoke to him to take his mind off of the pain.

"I'm Morgana."

"Nice to meet you, Morgana. I am Percival."

"Percival. It's nice to meet you, as well. What happened? A fight?"

"A duel. First blood loses. I lost, obviously," he chuckled. Morgana smiled wryly.

"Percival," she said as she tied off the makeshift bandage, "do you know the way to the castle?"

Percival blinked at her, then turned his head to look at the towering building in the distance. "No," he said. "Sorry. I've never had cause to travel there, myself."

Morgana's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but she smiled. "Oh. That's all right. Well, I've got to go, Percival. Good luck finding Gaius, okay?"

Percival frowned as she passed him. He stood abruptly. "Wait, Morgana," he said.

She stopped and turned back.

"Allow me to accompany you," he said. "I can protect you from any harm. Consider it a repayment for your kindness."

Morgana's lashes fluttered as she registered what Percival had said. "You mean it?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course," he nodded emphatically. "I am a man of my word."

"Oh, thank you," she replied breathily. "I would like that, very much. Thank you, Percival."

"It is my pleasure," Percival responded. "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, My Lady."

Morgana beamed. "Shall we go, then?"

"After you."

Percival followed at Morgana's heels as she started off, feeling much more relaxed than she had in a while. With such a big warrior on her side, she was sure no one would bother her. Perhaps not even Emrys, magic or no.

She turned the corner, and spotted two wooden doors seemingly built into the hedges themselves. There were no door men, much to her relief.

"Where do these lead to?" Morgana wondered aloud.

She stopped in front of them, examining the dragon head knockers. One looked old and wizened, and had thick brass teeth bared in some sort of sneer. The other was a bit smaller and looked more serene, and had an air of playfulness.

"There are no handles," Morgana noted, turning to Percival, who shrugged.

Both of them jumped and backed away when a gruff voice said, "Knock, and the door will open."

The wizened dragon knocker blinked at them, mouth curling into a wider smile.

"Well," Morgana said, feeling a bit abnormal in that she was rather unfazed by the talking brass, "where do these doors lead to?"

"I can't tell you. Ask Aithusa."

"Is that...Are you Aithusa?" Morgana asked the adjacent knocker.

The dragon made a little growl, high pitched and friendly. Morgana took it as a yes.

"Where do these doors lead to?"

Aithusa gurgled wordlessly, and the other knocker guffawed loudly. Morgana narrowed her eyes, put out, and returned her attention to that one. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and cocked an eyebrow.

"Aithusa can't speak," he chortled.

"So neither of you can tell me where the doors lead?" Morgana huffed.

"Precisely, girl. You must choose one."

"Well, does one lead to the castle?"

"All paths lead to the castle," the brass dragon rolled its golden eyes. "It's only a matter of which one is quickest!"

Morgana scoffed. "Fine, then. I'll knock on Aithusa's door. At least she's not laughed at me."

"She would if she could, I'm sure."

Morgana chuffed at the dragon's rudeness, and Percival shot the knocker a dirty glance as well. She grasped the brass ring that hung beneath Aithusa's neck like some sort of bizarre jewelry, and then tapped it against the door thrice.

Aithusa purred as the door swung inward, admitting Morgana and Percival to a dusky forest. She cautiously stepped inside, Percival ducking in after her, and looked around. She was apparently transported to a different place, because she was quite sure that the sky-high trees were not there before. She and Percival turned back at the sound of a shutting door, only to see that there no longer was a door. Just endless, shadowy trees.

They exchanged a wide-eyed glance.

In the castle in the center of the labyrinth, the king and his ward slept soundly, curled up in the marble white throne. A plush blue pillow cushioned Emrys' back, and Arthur dribbled onto the king's chest, tiny fist pressed against his mouth.

Suddenly Emrys' eyes flickered, but he did not wake.

Deep, powerful words spilled effortlessly from his lips as he slumbered, and a glowing blue orb formed in his palm. Beneath his dark lashes, gold shimmered.

Morgana and Percival crept forward in the eerily silent forest. Percival's hand white-knuckled the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. There was no danger yet. He followed closely at Morgana's heels, eyes flicking from tree to tree as though to see an enemy appear. Morgana looked along the ground for some path.

As she passed over a patch of browning moss, a blue line traced itself in a wide square. Percival did not see it, as his eyes roamed the distance, and he stepped over the boundary.

He promptly and soundlessly disappeared, and the blue square faded instantly.

"Which way do you think we should go, Percival?" Morgana whispered. She glanced over her shoulder at him, only to start when she saw he was no longer with her. "Percival? Percival!"

She hurried back the way they had come, hoping to run across him. But then she realized that she didn't remember which way they had come.

"Oh, Percival!" she called, no longer caring about shattering the silence. "Percival, where are you? Percival? Please!"

She circled a tree, head swiveling in all directions. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, help me! Someone, please! Hello? Hello?!"

Morgana forced herself to stop and take several deep, calming breaths. She wouldn't get anywhere if she panicked. What was one supposed to do when they were lost in the woods? Stay in one spot and wait for help. But what to do when one was the only person in the forest?

She pressed a hand to her head, fighting tears. There was nothing for it. She'd have to wander until she found someone else, someone who could help her. She didn't know where Percival had gone, but she was quite certain that he hadn't meant to leave her. Not like Mordred.

She gasped. "Mordred!" she screamed, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Mordred, help! You promised!" Morgana stumbled around for a few paces, hoping that her reverberating screams had reached someone's ears.

After waiting a few more precious moments, she started off in a random direction.

Mordred! Mordred, help! You promised!

Mordred skidded to a halt, turning back, breast heaving. His cheeks were flushed, and his curls matted to his forehead with sweat. Morgana had sounded truly frightened.

After only a moment's hesitation, he spun on his heels and started back through the hedge labyrinth. As he turned the corner, though, he was forced to stop once more.

"Hello, Mordred," Emrys said cordially. Despite his friendly voice he did not smile.

"K-King Emrys," Mordred greeted, dipping his chin.

You're going to Morgana's aid.

Mordred's mouth opened and closed a few times, but then his jaw snapped shut with a click. I am, Sire.

I do not trust you, Mordred, Emrys said, slowly circling Mordred, who did not move. Not in any lifetime shall I ever trust you. And you know why, do you not?

I do, Sire. But this life I shall be different, he promised. I am loyal only to you, King Emrys. I am different this time because I remember. I allowed my anger to turn to hatred, and that hatred led to murder. But this time I remember, and I know it was through my own folly that the horrors of our past lives occurred.

Emrys smiled wanly. His eyes narrowed like a snake's. Your own folly, he repeated. Not entirely yours, I admit. Do not think you're so special, Mordred. Morgana I distrust as well. I believe that you believe you have changed. I would give you the benefit of the doubt had I not heard this all before.

I -

Do not interrupt me, Mordred. Emrys completed another round and stopped in front of the young man. I am trying to break the cycle, to end this pointless suffering we must face in every rebirth. You I have yet to change, to save. I wish I knew how. But no matter what I try, what I say - You always betray me in the end. But you remember that as well.

I do, Sire, Mordred answered, sounding weak even in his own head.

I've given you chance after chance in countless lifetimes. No more, Emrys said, though he did sound regretful. This is Morgana's last chance. She must complete this trial alone. She must overcome every obstacle on her own. If I simply tell her what she must know, she will still become embittered. It's in her nature, in every life. She must learn for herself, but she must be willing.

Mordred swallowed hard, nodding curtly.

Emrys regarded him for a long minute. Then he put his hand to his mouth, whispering words into it. As he extended the glowing blue orb that appeared to Mordred, it solidified and changed into a pristine red apple.

"Take this," Emrys said aloud.

Mordred did, staring at it a bit suspiciously.

"I am willing to grant you redemption in this life," Emrys said, "if you take this apple and give it to Morgana. Oh, I know you'll go to her whether I forbid you or not. So I send you to her with this gift."

He raised his eyes to the king's. "Will this...harm her?" he asked quietly.

"No."

Mordred nodded slowly, fingers curling around the fruit. I'll do it.

Emrys smiled, this time a bit more warmly. "Do not fail me, Mordred." Not again.

I won't, Sire. I swear it.

With that promise, Emrys stepped aside to let Mordred pass.

Morgana stumbled again, catching herself against a gritty, twisted tree. She didn't know how long she had been walking, but eventually the twilight forest had made way to an even more sinister place. Here it was dark, and somber owls called to each other. The trees and their roots intertwined and snaked across the ground, scratching maliciously as she fought her way through.

She couldn't turn back. It was too late for that.

Percival was nowhere to be found, and neither was Mordred. Not even Emrys had come when she cursed him, nor when she had begged him.

A flash of white between the trees ahead of her had Morgana freezing in her tracks.

"Hello?" she called warily.

"Hello."

The white appeared again, and Morgana saw that it was the fabric of a fine dress. The young woman wearing it had long chestnut locks that cascaded down her shoulders and back, framing her delicate, kindly face.

Morgana could have fainted from relief. "Please, can you tell me where I am?"

"Oh," the woman said, hurrying toward her, arms outstretched. "You poor dear. Yes, of course. Not to worry, come along. Let me help you."

Morgana followed obediently, too exhausted to question anything.

"I am Mithian. What's your name?"

"Morgana."

"A pleasure, Morgana. Oh, you poor child," Mithian sighed, leading her along a seemingly meandering path. "Don't you worry. We'll take good care of you. It must have been hard for you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Morgana agreed. "I just want to go to sleep forever."

"Welcome to our camp, Morgana," Mithian said as they entered a small clearing. There was a low fire burning in the center, illuminating the figures sitting around it. The four of them turned to see the new arrivals.

"Hello," Morgana greeted tiredly.

There was one dark-skinned man with sharp brown eyes, a young blonde man with a rather mischievous grin, and an older pair of blondes who were obviously a couple.

"This is Morgana," Mithian said, leading her to the fire and bidding her to sit. "Morgana, this is Elyan, Will, and Tristan and Isolde. We're all friends here."

Morgana nodded to them, and they smiled endearingly at her. "Can you please tell me where I am?" she asked.

"These here's the Darkling Woods," answered Elyan, gesturing to the trees around them. "Our territory. Don't worry. People know to keep out of them."

"Darkling Woods," Morgana repeated. "How do you get to the castle? Do you know?"

They laughed, much to Morgana's chagrin. She blushed slightly.

Will cried, "Why d'you want to know that? We can't leave here!"

"Why not?" Morgana asked.

Tristan and Isolde shook their heads. "Well," said Tristan, "when you're dead you haven't got much cause to go anywhere, anyhow."

Morgana's brow furrowed, perplexed. "Dead? What do you mean, 'dead'?"

The five's smiles faded, and they regarded her silently for a moment.

"You were executed, weren't you? Beheaded." Mithian narrowed her eyes. "That's how you came to appear here."

She gaped at them. "Beheaded? Me? No, of course not! I've not died! I'm trying to get to the castle in the center of the labyrinth." Then Morgana laughed nervously. "You're all just joking, right? I mean, your heads are still..."

As she spoke, the five spirits reached up and easily lifted their heads straight from their necks. The cleavage was clean and straight, except for Will's - his was ragged, and pieces of flesh and shards of bone hung grotesquely. Morgana blanched fearfully, heart stuttering in her chest.

Then Tristan and Isolde stood, heads tucked under one arm to draw their swords with their other. They smiled eerily, though Morgana only had eyes for the headless stumps atop their shoulders.

"You should not have come here," Mithian said, her kindly voice cold and breathy - like a ghost's. "You should not have come to these Darkling Woods."

Morgana stumbled backwards, tripping over an upraised root. She fell hard, knocking the wind out of her.

Suddenly, as her lungs expanded, her head cleared, and Morgana scrambled to her feet again. She spun and sprinted into the trees, desperation and self-perseverance fueling her. The sounds of whooping behind her only spurred her on faster, faster, faster.

Will suddenly appeared from a tree in front of her, and she veered left to escape his feral cries of "Run! Run!" She heard his shrill laughter follow her.

Isolde appeared then, holding both her own and her love's head. Morgana sobbed in terror, pivoting right, only to bodily run into a headless Tristan. He made to grab her, but she shoved him away and spun around, racing in the opposite direction. The ghosts laughed.

She ran unhindered for several minutes, and finally began to slow. Morgana shakily looked around, pressing a hand against the cramp in her side as she heaved for breath. Behind her she spotted Elyan, half-shadowed beside a dead tree.

"Ah!"

Morgana ran.

Suddenly she was out of the tree line, squinting into blinding sunlight. She didn't stop, knowing that if she did she would be caught by ruthless ghosts and beheaded. Tall, dry blades of grass tickled her arms as she waded through as quickly as she could. Morgana chanced a look over her shoulder, and saw five eerie figures standing just inside the boundary of the forest.

She stopped and stared back at them, but they didn't appear to be following. Perhaps they couldn't. Morgana nearly collapsed in relief when they turned and disappeared back into the Darkling Woods. They were leaving her. She would live.

But she still had to find the castle. She had to get Arthur back. Morgana had no idea how much time was left.

Morgana.

She immediately perked up. "Mordred? Is that you?"

"Yes," he said aloud. He approached her from the right, where Morgana noticed a clearly marked path winded into the forest. He appeared a little out of breath himself, though she doubted he had been chased by the headless ghosts. I came when you called.

Morgana allowed a tentative smile. "Oh, I'm so glad," she said. "I thought I was going to die! Those spirits were out to get me, Mordred!"

Mordred craned his neck and looked back at the trees, but Mithian and her band had already disappeared. Those strange spirits have never killed anyone, he said. I doubt they would have killed you...You are unharmed?

"I'm all right," Morgana sighed. "Thank you for coming back, Mordred."

Mordred shifted a bit guiltily. Here. He reached into his cloak and produced the apple, but before he could give it to her -

"Morgana!"

She turned, and Mordred swiftly tucked the fruit away. "Percival!" she cried joyfully. "Are you all right?"

He jogged up to them, having taken a separate path on the other side. "I'm fine," he answered breathlessly. "One moment I was following you, and then the next I found myself in a lost temple. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, foregoing telling him about her fright. "Percival, this is Mordred."

The knight nodded to the Druid, who responded in kind. Morgana observed their new surroundings. Stretching as far her eye could see was a deadened field of yellow grass, smattered with scraggly trees and spotted with holes of thick black mud. In the far distance was a small white bridge that passed a deep chasm in the earth and led into another forest. A tiny white dot far past the treetops was Emrys' castle.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"We've reached the Perilous Lands," Mordred said. "It was once prosperous, but has long since been poisoned and inhabitable. It is fraught with danger. We must pass carefully."

"Everything's dangerous in this world, isn't it," Morgana mumbled. "I need to get my brother back before Emrys raises him to be like these awful, cryptic people."

"Your brother?" Percival repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"The Sorcerer King has him," Morgana said. "That's why I have to go to the castle, to get him back. He's given me thirteen hours to complete his labyrinth, but I'm not sure how much of that time is left..."

Percival looked a bit perturbed, but he said nothing.

"Four hours left," Mordred said as they started forward.

Morgana frowned at him quizzically.

"I was at the beginning of the labyrinth when you were," Mordred said. "It's been nine hours since then."

"Really?" Morgana raised her eyebrows in surprise. It certainly hadn't felt like nine hours to her. Sometimes it felt as though she had been journeying for eternity, but at other times it felt like far less than that. Magic at work, she supposed.

They walked on in companionable silence.

The sun beat down on their heads and shoulders, but it was not unbearably hot. In fact, with the cool breeze that swept over the plain they crossed, it felt rather nice. The ground beneath the rolling grass was relatively flat, which benefitted them because they could not see through it.

The trio made quick progress, much quicker than Morgana would have expected. But she wasn't complaining. She had already lost nine hours, and she'd be damned if she was going to have any more setbacks.

At last they came across a short stone bridge. It allowed passage over a dry river bed. Just as they reached it, however, a tall figure brandishing a sword leapt before them. Morgana yelped and stumbled back with a surprised Mordred, and Percival instinctively drew his own sword.

"You shall not pass!" cried the man triumphantly, flipping his dark locks. He grinned cockily behind his scruffy beard. He wore travel-worn clothes, dusty, it seemed, because he had been waiting underneath the bridge.

"Let us go," Percival said, "and no harm shall come to you."

"Ha! No one passes me without permission." He swept his sword for emphasis. "Isn't that right, Leon?"

Another man peered out from underneath the shade of the bridge, looking even more disheveled than the first. His blonde curls looked much darker than that on account of the dust, and he nursed a waterskin as he shrugged and disappeared again.

"Ah, don't mind him," the challenger rolled his chocolate eyes. "He's been a bit down ever since...Well, that's not important! What's important is that you'll not get along here."

Percival calmly removed his gauntlet and dropped it at the man's feet, who instantly looked even more delighted.

"Right here, right now!" he cried, scooping it up and tossing it back to the large knight, who surreptitiously fastened it round his wrist again. "What's your name?"

"Percival. And yours?"

"Gwaine be mine, Percival," he answered, readying himself for the duel. "Perhaps you've heard of me, eh?"

"No."

"Ah, worth an ask. Ready?"

Percival nodded curtly.

"Leon! Call it."

As the depressed knight reappeared, moving slowly, Morgana and Mordred stepped out of the way. They did not want to get into the middle of a duel. While her eyes were locked fearfully on the fight that was to ensue, Mordred's eyes shifted to the unmanned bridge. Leon lethargically raised his hand and brought it down again, almost drunkenly, signaling the start of the duel.

Gwaine charged.

Percival parried the vicious blow with one hand, his other hand snatching out to grasp Gwaine by the collar.

"Whoa!"

With the ease of the giant Percival was, he lifted Gwaine quite a few inches into the air. The smaller knight was instantly thrown off balance, but he attacked nevertheless from his suspended position.

"Unhand me!" he demanded, slashing at the giant, who easily blocked each strike.

After only a moment, Percival managed to knock away Gwaine's sword, which ended up several feet away. Gwaine proceeded to kick and scratch at Percival. He calmly sheathed his sword, still holding Gwaine up and out at arm's length.

"Leon, help me!" Gwaine cried desperately. "Come on, my friend! Attack! I have been apprehended, mate!"

Leon merely blinked blearily, sipping from the waterskin.

"Do you yield, Gwaine?" Percival asked.

"Leon! Leon, you coward!"

Percival gave Gwaine a shaking. "Do you yield?"

"Ah, all right! All right, I yield, you brute! Now release me."

The giant did so, and Gwaine landed deftly on his feet. As he quickly straightened, he once more flicked his hair. His fiery expression cooled into a more pleasant demeanor, and he sidled up between Percival and Morgana.

"Quite a strong man you've got here, my lady," he said to Morgana.

She looked at him a bit doubtfully.

"What brings you all to our bridge, anyway?" Gwaine continued obliviously and cheerfully. He walked over to where his sword lay and picked it up, twirling it in his hand before sheathing it at his belt.

"We must get to the castle," Morgana replied. "The Sorcerer King has taken my brother from me, and I have to get him back. I have to."

"Have to, eh?" he repeated. "Well, why didn't you say so!"

Morgana's face lit up with a tentative smile. "So you'll let us pass?"

"Of course! It's not our bridge to begin with, so anyone is free to do as they please." Gwaine smirked at their incredulous and indignant expressions.

"Why did you stop us, then?!"

"You seem like a friendly group," Gwaine shrugged. "And I was bored, you see. Leon hasn't exactly been great company this last year." He cast a sidelong look at Leon, who seemed even more downcast now that his waterskin was empty. The curly-haired knight glanced forlornly up at Gwaine. He rolled his eyes and tossed the man his own skin.

"Is...he okay?" Morgana asked, watching him greedily gulp the skin's contents.

"He will be," Gwaine replied flippantly. "Normally I'm the drunkard, you know, but one of us has got to be responsible."

"We should probably be going," Percival said to Morgana, who nodded in response.

"Right. Come on, Mordred, we - Mordred?"

They all looked about, but the young Druid was nowhere to be found.

"Oh," she sighed uncertainly. "Well, maybe we'll meet him again along the way...We haven't got the time to search for him."

Percival nodded in agreement, raising his eyes to the distant white turret of the far castle.

Gwaine stepped aside to allow their passage, and they hurried across the bricked bridge. Morgana turned to wave farewell. She stopped suddenly upon seeing that both Gwaine and Leon had followed.

"Um...?"

"Ah, just thought that we'd travel along with you," Gwaine smiled cheekily. "We've got nothing better to do, nowhere to go, really. You don't mind, of course?"

"Well, I s'pose not," she answered truthfully. "I could use all the help I can get."

"Then we're your men."

Unbeknownst to Morgana and the others, Mordred had snuck past the duel and crossed the bridge long before they noticed his absence. He ran swiftly, leaving no trace of his path through the trees. In a matter of moments, Mordred reached the place he had made for: a cliff that overlooked a small stream and a few straggling trees.

Breathing heavily, he stood there fingering the apple in his pocket. Then he drew it out at last, the light of the sun shining on the ruby red skin. With renewed resolve, Mordred raised the fruit, clutched tightly in his fist, intending to throw it far away.

Redemption, Mordred, said Emrys' voice in his head.

Mordred gasped, shuddering, and quickly stepped away from the edge of the cliff. He pressed the apple to his chest, heart hammering painfully, and looked around as though expecting the king to emerge from the trees behind him.

"I know," he whispered fervently. "I know, I know..."

Mordred cautiously stepped back into the forest, curly head still swiveling every which way. Emrys flicked his hand, and the slightly distorted image within the blue orb disappeared. Arthur grasped for the floating light, gurgling excitedly.

Emrys frowned thoughtfully, absently moving the ball with an occasional swish of his hand to keep the baby occupied. "She must learn," he murmured. "Mordred cannot fail...If he does, all is lost."

Morgana dragged her feet tiredly through the leaves, falling farther and farther behind her new friends. Gwaine was chattering animatedly about his adventures in taverns, apparently telling the story of how he'd met Leon, who had then been an elite knight in some king's guard. She couldn't bring herself to pay attention to him, though. She was more focused on the pangs in her belly.

"I'm so hungry," she complained under her breath.

Morgana...

She stopped and turned, momentarily forgetting her discomfort. "Mordred? Where are you?"

He appeared from behind a tree, fidgeting with the apple hidden in his cloak. Mordred found himself unable to meet her gaze.

"Are you all right?" she asked, stepping toward him.

Mordred held out the apple, turning his face away. "Here, take this. Eat it."

"Oh," Morgana gasped, taking it gingerly. "Is this where you've gone? To find something to eat?"

Mordred did not reply. He swallowed painfully against the lump in his throat.

"Thank you," she smiled brightly. She brought the apple to her lips and took a large bite, relishing the sweet juice that filled her mouth.

Mordred flinched at the crunch. He forced himself to glance towards her, and saw that she was no longer chewing but staring at him with confusion. Mordred hugged himself as though he would break into pieces as her expression turned into that of one who had been betrayed.

"What have you done?" Morgana whispered.

Mordred shook his head, backing away. "I did it, Emrys," he said hysterically. "I did it, I did it...This is what you wanted!" With that he spun on his heel and ran, heedless of Morgana's call behind him.

Morgana, still holding the apple, turned away from the direction Mordred had gone as though to call the others back. Her lashes fluttered, and she collapsed where she stood. She dreamt of a time lost.

She dreamt of Camelot.

"Ah," Gwaine said nostalgically, "there's your castle, my lady!"

The men turned when there was no reply, only to find that where Morgana had stood was then empty. They drew their swords, Leon fumbling slightly behind the other two.

"Morgana?!" Percival called.

They were all fully prepared to charge back the way they had come, swords held high, but each of them stopped short. A blue orb of light hovered above them, shining entrancingly. Their swords were lowered as they stared slack-jawed at the magical display.

Morgana was all but forgotten.

A waltz was playing, though the band was nowhere to be seen. All around her were people, all finely dressed and smothered in sweet-smelling perfumes. Bright dresses and shining wigs twirled around her, glittering in the bright torchlight of the ballroom with the night blanketing the windows.

Morgana was dressed in the same manner, a satin green dress, embroidered with silver thread, wrapped around her comely figure, fitted snugly at the waist. Twinkling on her chest was a silver and diamond pendant, and dazzling pearls adorned her intricate dark locks. She did not wear a mask as most people did, and she felt so utterly alone in that moment.

She searched for a familiar face in the masquerade.

As she forced her way through the throng of people, cringing and apologizing when she accidentally stepped on someone's foot or shouldered too hard, a dark-haired man watched. He reached up and removed his simple half mask, revealing high cheekbones and bright blue eyes.

Morgana turned and spotted him, and for a moment time seemed to freeze.

A dancing couple passed between them, and then Emrys was gone.

Her heart clenched frightfully in her chest. She wasn't entirely sure who he was; but she knew there was something important about him. She needed him, somehow. Important.

Morgana forced her way through several dancers to reach the spot he had been moments ago. She glanced around, hoping to see him again. She saw his back, swathed in a fine blue jacket with a silver dragon embroidered in the center, as he easily maneuvered his way through the jostling people.

She gave chase.

At long last she made it through by the path he had taken, and stumbled off of the dance floor and onto a clear terrace. The night air felt cool against her flush skin, and she gulped gratefully. Emrys was leaning against the balcony, framed by the moonlight behind him, waiting.

He extended his hand to her, and she took it, staring wonderingly at him.

They danced.

Morgana was amazed. She had never learned to waltz, and yet here she was an expert at it. Emrys smiled as though knowing what she was thinking. They twirled alone the balcony, continuing even the music ended with a flourish. Her green skirts swished softly against the marble floor, Emrys' hand soft against her waist.

As they spun around, Emrys' eyes caught the light of a nearby torch - and for a split second they flashed and orange gold.

She gasped, quickly tearing herself out of his arms and backing away in horror. "Magic!" she choked out fearfully.

He looked at her patiently. "But you have it as well."

Morgana shook her head fervently, turning to run back inside, away from the sorcerer. Only to catch sight of her reflection in the glass of the door. Her eyes glowed as brightly as the sun.

"No!"

Morgana backed away from the door, afraid now to go in, but also afraid to stay. The torches inside flared violently as her emotions swelled in her breast, and several red curtains caught fire. The patrons cried out in alarm at the sudden outburst of flames, and began to retreat.

"You are running out of time," Emrys whispered in her ear. "Use your magic, Morgana. It is your destiny."

In despair, Morgana covered her face with her hands, holding back sobs. She could not have magic. It was simply impossible! Magic was evil, corrupted!

The ballroom was burning. In the middle of the room stood a single regal figure - a blonde man with wide, horrified blue eyes. Firelight reflected erratically off of the bright armor he wore. There was a brilliant sword in his hand, runes reading Excalibur carved into the silvery blade. "Morgana!" he roared, stretching out his hand.

"ARTHUR!"

Morgana bolted upright, her brother's names on her lips and tears like dewdrops on her cheeks. After heaving for breath, Morgana suddenly realized that she was no longer on a moonlit balcony in a time long past, nor was she in the forest outside of Emrys' city.

She was sitting in a cave. Morgana observed that someone had to have brought her to this place, for she had been graciously laid on a bed roll and covered with a thin, dark blanket. Nearby was a low fire, above which simmered some sort of salty-smelling stew.

Hearing footsteps, Morgana turned her attention to the round, low entrance of the cave. A young woman with long curly hair entered, a bundle of sticks in her arms. She had dark, sun-kissed skin and eyes the color of a varnished wooden table.

"Oh," she said upon seeing Morgana. "You are awake. I'm glad."

"Who are you?" Morgana asked, licking her dry lips.

"My name is Guinevere," she answered, bustling over to the fire and laying her burden beside it. "You can call me Gwen, if you like."

"Gwen," she repeated. "I'm Morgana."

"It's nice to meet you, Morgana. I found you lying out in the forest. Are you all right?" Gwen asked, turning to her with a concerned expression.

Morgana nodded slowly.

"What were you doing out there all alone?"

"I...I wasn't alone," Morgana said. "There was someone else...there."

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Don't tell me you don't remember?"

"I do," Morgana assured her quickly. "I'm...thinking. Yes, it was me and three - no, four others."

"Hm," Gwen murmured, stirring the contents of the pot. "But you were all alone when I found you. Did you all run into trouble?"

"No," Morgana shook her head. "It was...an apple. I was betrayed."

"An apple betrayed you?"

"No, the one who gave me the apple. I think it was poisoned, or - or magicked." Morgana hugged herself sadly. "Did no one come looking for me?"

Gwen gave her a sympathetic look. "Well, I'm not sure," she said. "They might have, you know. I didn't stick around for long. I was afraid of bandits, you see."

"Bandits?"

"They come around sometimes," Gwen nodded. "Emrys usually has wards to keep out those of such intent, but not everything is certain in this kingdom."

"Emrys," Morgana said slowly, as though tasting the name. "Oh! Emrys! The castle!"

"Morgana?"

Morgana pushed herself to her feet in a panic, swaying slightly. Gwen leapt up to steady her, eyebrows raised in alarm.

"I must get to the castle!" she declared. "Gwen - thank you!"

"You're..." Gwen started, though Morgana had already gone, ducking under the stone awning, "welcome...Good luck, Morgana."

The orb blinkered out, and the knights blinked blearily. Gwaine rubbed his eyes with a fist, while Percival and Leon stared around as though unable to remember where they were.

"I was just dreaming," Gwaine yawned, "about eating a cheese that tasted of apple pie."

"Percival?" called a distant, familiar voice.

The knights were instantly snapped out of their reverie.

"Morgana!" Percival returned, cupping a hand around his mouth.

"Percival!" The relief was evident in her voice, and Morgana appeared a ways down the path. She hurried over to the them, then slowed upon seeing the castle in the background.

"There's your castle, my lady," Gwaine smiled, gesturing grandly.

She broke out in a smile. "Thank goodness!" she breathed. "We must hurry! We're losing time."

The three men nodded compliantly, and as one they all set out. The castle was not far, but they would have to pass through the city to reach it.

Easy enough.

As they approached the gates of the city, they were chagrined to notice that two heavily armed guards were posted. Morgana hoped that they would allow their passage, but somehow she doubted it.

Gwaine unsheathed his sword and made to charge them, but Leon tackled him to the ground behind the bushes before he could even take a breath. Percival, after a whispered discussion, managed to convince him that attacking was not the right plan.

So it was decided that Leon would distract them while the rest of them sneaked to the gate and unlocked it. Later Leon would try to join them within the city walls, if he could. But they could not wait for long. Morgana was quite certain that her time was running out and that soon Arthur would be lost to her forever.

Leon snuck a bit away from them, then boldly sauntered out into the open. He had sobered considerably since their meeting at the bridge, and Morgana could see a nobleman in his stature. She wondered again what had happened to him, but it was not the right time to ask. She doubted she would ever really know for sure.

The sandy-haired knight approached the sentries. Neither guard moved, however. Leon stopped in front of them. He leaned closer to one, and then turned to the other, waving his hand before his face. His actions earned no response, and the knight turned to their hiding place with a shrug.

Gwaine laughed. "Well, I'll be damned! The guards are sleeping."

Morgana chortled a bit, mostly in relief. They quietly moved to join Leon, who was cranking open the door. The chains rattled loudly, but still the guards snored away. What luck.

They opened the gates just enough so that they could slip inside, and then shut them behind them so that when the guards woke they would find nothing amiss. Inside the walls, there tall, beautifully made buildings stood, though they were nowhere near as grand as the towering castle at the center. Almost everything was a dazzling white in the sunlight, and several blue banners hung from laundry lines that crisscrossed from the roofs above them.

The place seemed deserted.

The group moved forward cautiously with bated breath. It was too quiet for a city, too still.

They did not have long to wonder where the city's inhabitants had gone, for as soon as they passed the threshold of the cramped buildings and into a small square, they found a small army of cloaked Druids waiting. Percival and Gwaine immediately stepped forward, drawing their swords, while Leon remained behind with Morgana with his own blade in hand.

"A trap!" Gwaine hissed, though he didn't seem too perturbed or put out. He flipped his sword in his hand, preparing for battle with a raucous grin.

Percival's brow pinched in the middle, and he set his shoulders.

The Druids at the other end of the flagstone yard simply raised their hands. At once several fireballs were hurtling at the group. Gwaine's smile vanished. They ducked for cover behind the nearest building.

"Cheating!" Gwaine bellowed, brandishing his weapon. "You dog-hearted cowards! Come and fight me like a man!"

"They are people of magic," Leon said, the first words Morgana had heard from him. "They will not fight with steel."

"Then, uh," Gwaine said, flipping his hair, "one of us will have to use magic back, eh?"

"We don't have magic," Percival hissed.

Use your magic, Morgana. It is your destiny.

Emrys' words echoed throughout her mind, but Morgana quickly shook her head to clear it, shuddering. She had no magic; that had simply been an awful dream.

Leon chanced a glance around the corner, but quickly had to retreat as more fire was flung at the appearance of his curls.

"There must be a way around," Morgana said. "We can circle them and get past that way!"

"Excellent idea!" Gwaine said. He promptly turned to the house behind which they hid and tried the door. It was locked, but he was undeterred. He stepped back and then barraged the wood with his shoulder.

The door shook but did not break.

Gwaine flipped his hair and clapped Percival on the shoulder. "Your turn, mate." When Percival turned with a sigh, Gwaine winced and rubbed his ache.

With one strong kick, Percival managed to bring down the door.

"Belūcan!"

The door slammed shut, knocking a startled Percival back a step. "There are people inside," he said incredulously.

"Then maybe they'll help us!" Morgana said. She pushed past the men and banged desperately on the door. "Hello? Hello, please open up!"

She received no response.

They won't help you, said a familiar voice.

Morgana gasped and turned, as did the others.

There, a few paces behind, stood Mordred. His cloak was drawn tightly about him, his face obscured by the hood. He moved forward, but Morgana only inched away.

"What are you doing here?" she asked icily.

The others sensed her coldness toward him and immediately adopted the same demeanors. Percival even went so far as to point his sword toward him.

Mordred did not move, but stood impassively. I've come to help.

"Like you've helped so much already?" Morgana replied scornfully. "How could you, Mordred? I trusted you!"

There are no words, Mordred said sadly. But as it is, I am your only hope of reaching the castle. My strength lies in magic.

With that he strode forward, throwing his cloak back from his shoulders to free his hands. Morgana and Leon stepped aside so that he could pass, eyeing him warily. Mordred did meet their gaze, however, and rounded the corner without slowing.

"King Emrys!"

Emrys sat up slowly, turning his head leisurely to the panicked subject. Arthur snoozed peacefully in his arms. "Yes, Isildur?"

"Morgana, she's made it to the castle," Isildur said, his silvery hair slightly disheveled from his mad rush to inform his liege.

The Sorcerer King nodded slowly. "I see. Then, make sure she arrives here safely, but not easily."

"But, Sire, she is not alone."

"Who accompanies her?"

"Three men of the past Round Table," Isildur answered. "Sirs Gwaine, Leon, and Percival."

"Percival?" Emrys raised his eyebrows. "Has he returned already? I hadn't noticed. But no matter. None of them practice magic, so it is a simple matter of separating them. Please do so."

"Of course, Sire. And what of the boy, Mordred?"

Emrys frowned a little. "What of him? I've pardoned him already. He may return to the city, if he so wishes."

"He has, but..."

"But?"

"I fear he may rejoin with Morgana, Sire."

Emrys regarded the leader of the Druidic Knights solemnly, then turned a thoughtful gaze to the tiny Arthur. Then he lifted his chin. "Do nothing to him unless he is, without a doubt, assisting Morgana. If he does...You know what to do, Isildur."

"Of course, Sire." Isildur bowed and took his leave, running back the way he'd come.

There were several sharp cries, some shouted spells, and the sickening smacks of bodies against stone, and then all was silent. Mordred returned no worse for wear.

Quickly. Where there are some, more shall come.

They cautiously followed, and gaped at the scene that greeted them. The Druids lying in heaps on the flagstone were not dead, but unconscious. A small fire smoldered nearby, blackening the stone. Mordred was already crossing the yard quickly, his features remaining hidden beneath his hood.

Morgana frowned, then quickly caught up with him as they passed into the shadows between two homes. The knights followed at her heels, casting wary glances around with their swords in their sweating palms.

"Why did you betray me?" Morgana hissed, grasping his shoulder tightly.

Mordred did not stop. I am sorry. I had no choice.

She narrowed her eyes, paying little attention to the twists and turns through which Mordred led them. "No choice? Of course you had a choice!"

The Druid faltered for a moment, lowering his chin. You are right, he conceded. I did have a choice. I made the wrong one. It seems it is the only choice I am able to make, the wrong one. I was told it would not harm you. In return for giving the enchanted apple, I would be granted redemption.

"Redemption?"

For my past misdeeds. They are quite numerous. King Emrys is too kind to me, Morgana. And now I repay that kindness with betrayal once more. For you.

Morgana's lips tightened into a thin line. "You are doing the right thing, Mordred," she said fiercely. "You are helping someone who cannot help herself."

The Druid laughed bitterly. She can. She only does not realize it.

Before Morgana could fully register these words or rebuff them, he halted and raised his hands, chanting a spell. The knights behind them tensed, prepared to go down fighting.

Suddenly Mordred fell silent and crumpled lifelessly to the ground. Morgana squeaked, hands shooting up to cover her mouth. Her wide eyes locked onto a tall Druid at the other end of the narrow street.

Percival's strong hand pulled her back to stand behind them, raising his weapon. But rather than face the unmagical men, the lone Druid turned and fled.

Morgana pushed past her protective wall of knights and rushed to Mordred's side. Dropping to her knees, she rolled him onto his back, fearing the worst. His breathing was even and deep, and his face was smooth and lax with sleep.

"Wake up, Mordred!" Morgana cried, shaking him.

Mordred did not respond, too deeply contained in the enchantment.

"At least he's not dead," Gwaine said cheerily, leaning over the pair.

"We have to get him out of here," Morgana said hurriedly. "Emrys can't know that he's helped us! If he knows, then surely Mordred shall die."

"Then we have no choice," Leon said, starting forward. "I shall swift him away from the city, then return as quickly as I may."

"There is a cave not far from here," Morgana said as Leon threw the sleeping Druid over his shoulder. "There is a woman there named Gwen. She can hide him, I'm sure."

Leon nodded, then quickly retraced their steps.

I forgive you, Mordred, Morgana thought, swallowing thickly. Then she turned to the castle, still very much distant, but now looming. Its turrets disappeared far above them into the foggy sky, several windows cast in orange torchlight. Others were dark and empty.

Her face hardened in determination. She would rescue her baby brother. She would defeat the Sorcerer King. No matter what it took.

"Let's go," she said, motioning for her friends to follow.

With Percival and Gwaine at her heels, they ran off, turning only when they were forced to do so by a dead end. The castle loomed closer and closer, menacing despite its beauty. Morgana imagined for a split second that she saw Emrys standing and watching in a window far above, but when she blinked he had gone.

They ran unhindered, and at last reached the steps of the great citadel.

The doors stood open, the darkness within beckoning.

Morgana Pendragon did not hesitate, which was perhaps a mistake. Because Gwaine and Percival were several steps behind her lithe form, the doors shut just in time to block their entrance. She skidded to a halt and turned back, panting for breath.

The knights pounded ferociously from the outside, shouting obscenities. Morgana looked for some sort of lever or handle with which to open them again, but found none. After a moment, she made a decision.

She turned and left them, footsteps echoing eerily around her.

Morgana found herself in a long hall, lit by the sunlight that poured in through open windows on the left. The halls were bare, but clean, every surface gleaming almost blindingly. But she pressed on, sparing no thought for her surroundings. She was intent on rescuing Arthur.

Somehow she knew that there was little time left. Minutes, at the most.

A blue orb appeared floating above her, and it dashed to the right, through an open door. Morgana paused to make sure it did not mislead her, and found herself standing in the threshold of an empty throne room.

"Arthur!" she cried.

The child, sitting on a plush blue pillow on the marble throne, glanced up and saw his sister. A smile lit up his chubby face and he clapped his hands, squealing delightedly.

Morgana laughed, tears burning behind her eyes, and ran towards him.

But before she could reach him, Emrys appeared from behind the throne and lifted Arthur into his arms. He regarded Morgana coolly, almost thoughtfully. For the first time, Morgana saw that his brow pinched a little in the middle.

"Everything I've done I've done for you," Emrys said to her, coddling Arthur against his chest.

Morgana stood defiantly where she had stopped upon sight of the king, glaring. "And just what have you done?"

"You asked me to take the child," Emrys said, "and I did. I have brought you here to my kingdom to grant you a chance to retrieve him, as you demanded. I have reordered time. I have gifted you with the help of light where there was only dark. I have allowed you to come here accompanied when you should have come alone."

Morgana sneered. "What, so you've broken your own rules?"

"Yes."

For a moment Morgana was taken aback by the resoluteness in Emrys' voice, but then she shook it off. He still had her brother.

"I've made it, Emrys. Give him back!"

"I cannot," Emrys said vehemently. "All that I've done was for you, don't you understand!? I am trying to save you, Morgana!"

Morgana stumbled back, shocked at his ferocity. The Sorcerer King's demeanor could change from peaceful to stormy and violent with no warning. It was quite frightening. Even Arthur began to whimper a little, face contorting tearfully.

Emrys sighed and set Arthur down, and the baby quieted.

"What do you mean?!" Morgana shouted back, shrill voice echoing. "All that you've done is hurt me!"

Emrys visibly flinched. "Yes," he said. "Yes, but it is the only way, Morgana. I've tried so many times in so many different ways. This is my last attempt."

"I don't understand! I don't understand! I hate you!"

"You should," Emrys stated.

Morgana fell silent, staring at him almost incredulously.

Emrys began to approach her, his expression a mixture of serenity and sadness, but mostly determination. "You want Arthur back so badly," he said, and Morgana shrank away from his withering glare. He leaned close and whispered breathily, "Then go and get him."

His eyes flared gold, startling Morgana.

But in that same instant Emrys disappeared in thin air, and Morgana found herself in a different place entirely. It was vaguely familiar. Though she was certain she'd never been to this place before, she felt as though she should know it.

A dark, stormy sky hovered over the canyon in which she found herself. It was dry and dusty, and the wind kicked up grit that tasted of copper, snatching at her long hair. She looked around, but saw nothing but rocks and the sheer, jutting walls of the earth on either side of her. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Hello?" she called.

For Camelot!

A sudden flash of a distant memory appeared before her eyes. A swarming mass of red and silver blurred as they charged toward the other end of the canyon. Leading them was an utterly familiar figure with blonde hair, and a sleek, powerful sword held aloft.

But just as briefly as it had appeared it was gone again, and Morgana was left feeling a bit dizzy. She did know this place, somehow, she was sure. Knowing that gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Emrys' blue orb appeared above her head, shining softly. Then it darted away so quickly that she could hardly follow it with her eyes. It illuminated a tiny, crawling toddler nearby. Arthur stopped his journey and reached up to the dancing light.

"Arthur!"

Morgana rushed toward him, but Arthur had already followed the light behind a boulder. By the time she reached it, he had gone. She looked around desperately, then spotted him several impossible yards away.

"Arthur, don't move!"

But he did not heed her, and when she reached him he was no longer there. Rather, he was sitting on a small shelf four feet above Morgana's head. Steeling herself, Morgana jumped up to the nearest handhold and arduously climbed the rock wall.

He was gone when she finally got there.

So focused on locating her brother again she was that Morgana did not notice Emrys watching her from the top of the cliff. She found Arthur on another protrudrance several inches below, but quite a bit to the left of her.

Morgana hesitated, looking around for some form of help. When she found none, she backed up as far as she could and then made a running leap.

Emrys rolled his eyes.

Arthur's tiny fingers made contact with the blue orb, and the pass of Camlann fell to pieces. Morgana found herself falling fast through nothingness, arms outstretched for a baby that was no longer there. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly her feet touched solid ground, and Morgana's eyes snapped open again. She looked round herself in awe. She was standing on the grassy shore of a crystal lake, glittering the reddening sunset. Tall, snow-capped mountains loomed in the background, and green trees whispered in the gentle breeze.

Emrys appeared from the shadows, smirking cruelly. "So close," he said, "and yet so far."

Morgana forgot the beauty of the Lake of Avalon and turned to him with a sallow expression. "Give him back to me."

"No."

Fury swelled in her breast, more intense than any anger she'd ever felt before. "He doesn't belong here!"

Emrys only smiled. "And who are you to say such a thing? You are nothing in this realm. You are powerless. You, Morgana, could not even solve a simple labyrinth without help." He moved forward to stand before the trembling girl, and reached up as though to caress her cheek.

And suddenly Morgana was screaming, "Astrice!"

Emrys flew back as though he had been struck by a car, body crumpling into a nearby tree. Morgana gasped as the burning sensation left her eyes, and her fingertips tingled. For a moment she thought she'd killed the king.

But then, from where he lay at the base of the tree, Emrys began to laugh.

It was not a psychotic one, nor an evil one. On his face was a genuinely happy smile, and he seemed to be laughing joyfully. As though something wonderful had happened.

"You've done it!" he said, still unmoving. "Morgana, you've awakened your magic!"

Morgana stared at him.

"Morgana," Emrys stood at last. "Your trial is done. You have done it. Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, you have fought your way to my castle. You now realize your power." Then he sobered. "Do with this what you will, Morgana. But please...Magic is a tool, nothing more. Remember this."

Before Morgana could reply, or ask a question of the Sorcerer King, his eyes flashed that molten gold.

The clock struck twelve.

Morgana bolted upright, head swiveling in all directions. She was in her room.

It had all been a dream. An awful, awful dream.

"Arthur," she whispered under her breath.

She rolled off the bed and hurried across the hall to the nursery. Morgana flipped the light on and crossed the room to the crib, where Arthur lay sleeping peacefully. He reached up with a tiny fist and rubbed his eye, then sighed. He did not wake.

Morgana smiled in relief and endearment, then retrieved the one-eyed bear Lancelot from where she had left him on the changing table. She tucked him beside Arthur.

"Watch over him this time, Lancelot," she pretended to chastise. "He is now your ward until he sees fit to dismiss you."

Light twinkled in Lancelot's remaining button eye as though to say, "Yes, My Lady."

She heard the front door downstairs open. "Morgana," Uther's voice carried, "we're home! Is everything all right?"

Morgana went to the doorway, flicking out the light as she went. "Yes, Dad," she replied. Without waiting for a response, Morgana returned to her room and threw herself back down on the bed. Her head hit the pillow before she remembered that she had put something underneath it earlier that day.

She winced and removed the two novels. The first was a small red book entitled The Labyrinth in golden calligraphy. The other was the much thicker The Sword in the Stone. Morgana set them on her bedside table out of the way.

Morgana settled herself into bed, then realized that she'd forgotten to turn out the lights. She chuffed and stared at the switch by the door, wishing it would flip on its own. There was a brief burn in her eyes, and the light turned off of its own accord.

She gaped up at the darkened ceiling in shock.

A merlin falcon that had been watching through the window with its golden eyes took flight, disappearing into the night.

Give me the child.

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered,

I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Druid City

To take back the child that you have stolen.

For my will is as strong as yours,

And my kingdom as great.

You have no power over me.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This took a lot of work, I'll tell you, and there was a bit of a scare when I thought I had finished it and then lost everything I'd typed, but it all turned out well in the end.