Just a plot bunny that hopped in one fine day after I got hooked into the Merlin fandom. It's really random I think, but it's been bouncing about in my head for so long that I realised it wouldn't leave me alone until I actually wrote it out. So it's probably not as humorous as my previous works, because really, it's more like a glorified form of rambling on my part.

So here we are, with me throwing Hadria into Albion and uh, I think this happens way after Hadria goes to Hogwarts. Like, really way after, when she finally gets around actually being the Master of Death (again).

Warnings: Fem! MOD! Neutral/Dark! Harry, AU (so much canon divergence), Hadria is basically an overpowered kid.

Disclaimer: I do not own either wizard/warlock.

Also, some reference to the Bartimaeus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud (It's really really good. Go read it. Seriously. I love Bartimaeus)... Plus some reference to Lord of the Rings (I'm sorry I only watched the movies cuz I haven't managed to finish reading it yet). And of course, lots of Harry Potter references. And some symbolism that I Googled and spun my own take on them.

Is that all? Yes, I think that's all for now.

Enjoy a piece of my thoughts on Hadria.

(And in case you haven't realised, yes this is another Danse-Macabre side-fic).

Presenting to you, a Harry Potter - Merlin Crossover: Featuring Hadria the weird child-like Master of Death, Merlin the awkward Warlock Emrys, and Morgana the High Priestess who messed up. And not to mention Scáth the Grim.

Sigel

Her eyes were green, the kind of green that comes from the refraction of sunlight through emeralds. They were greener than Morgana's sharp viridian, and they always seemed to shine with a strange luminance Merlin had only seen in cats.

She wasn't like Lamia, there was nothing about her that suggested she was something other than an happy-go-lucky young woman who was adapting to castle life with an optimism Merlin could appreciate. People liked her, and she made friends easily. She had guts and a witty tongue, though she would sometimes get herself stuck in the strangest of situations. There was once when she was found bringing up Gwen's breakfast with a squirrel on her head and all the King's dogs yapping at her heels.

Everyone agreed that she was like the female less-clumsy version of Merlin.

Merlin himself thought they could be long lost siblings, because aside from their differing eye colours, they had the same high cheekbones, the same elfin face, the same smile and the same dark hair. Someone once compared the Queen's new maid with the Lady Morgana, but Hadria was softer and slimmer than the traitor. Smaller in size too. And her hair was nothing like Morgana's graceful wavy locks. Instead, they were wild, untameable, like black flames that fanned out everywhere around her when they weren't tied up.

But she wasn't related to Merlin. They had asked Hunith, just to be sure. And Balinor having another child seemed rather unlikely to those who knew him.

Hadria was found with a group of bandits, much like how the Knights had found Lamia, but there was no pretence of helpless damsel with this girl. It had been peculiar, the way they met her, gagged and chained to a tree, looking rather bored and irritable. Apparently, ropes weren't enough to hold her, and if they hadn't silenced her, she would have talked their ears off. And they didn't dare knock her unconscious too many times as they had meant to sell her off to slave traders in 'good condition'. Which was to say, without making her too addled to work, or too beat-up to 'look pretty'.

The Knights freed her after the bandits had been dealt with, and they learnt that her home was no more, and she was pretty much lost. They were surprised by her high spirits despite her situation, which they later learnt was because anyone she cared for had either been dead for a long time now or travelling elsewhere and she was confident she'll be able to reunite with them in the future.

So they brought her back with them to Camelot, where she found work at the castle, and was later promoted to serve Gwen, who didn't want to take any of the servants she had worked with from before. And Hadria proved to be a competent servant, more so than Merlin, as Arthur had pointed out on several occasions.

While Merlin never got any funny feelings about Hadria, which meant that she was probably trustworthy, there was no doubt that she was a little strange, her similarities with Merlin aside. Or perhaps it was her similarities with Merlin that was what made it strange, because even though everyone said she was like a female version of him, everyone also agreed that she only looked like the female version of him. Her behaviour, they soon discovered, was not very feminine.

For one, she didn't like skirts much. Oh, she could pull them off like a noble woman, but she often chose to wear tunics and breeches instead. And she would sometimes get into brawls with men twice her size, and come out victorious. It wasn't long before no one would dare to insult the King and Queen's right to rule within her earshot.

Like Merlin, she also seemed to only own two identical sets of clothes, even though the Queen had offered to buy her more before. She was almost always wearing a green tunic with brown pants and a thick black scarf that they had seen her unravel into a cloak before.

And it was the cloak that clued Merlin into the mystery of Hadria that no one ever realised was there.

The cloak wasn't a cloak. It behaved like a clothing article most of the time, but Merlin saw Hadria feeding it before. When he went back to consult his books about a living cloak, he found its entry in the section on foreign fauna—an amortal creature from across the sea, that ate humans in their sleep, and could only be driven away by a powerful spell that only the best practitioners of magic could produce.

It was a shock to find that sweet and seemingly innocent Hadria could have a monster as a pet, and for a time, Merlin had no idea what to do about it. He asked Gaius for advice, and his mentor merely told him to be careful. Then Merlin went to meet with Kilgharrah, and the Great Dragon had laughed, called Hadria an aberration. There was none other like her. And there never will be.

Merlin wasn't pleased with Kilgharrah's advice or lack thereof and he still had no idea how to deal with the fact that there was a very real danger in the castle. His only comfort was that the dragon didn't seem very concerned about her—in fact, he seemed entertained by her existence—and there weren't any mysterious deaths in the castle yet.

The matter was taken out of his hands, however, when his clumsiness caused him to trip over tree root when he trailed her one day. Then, just as he was cursing his bad luck and wondering how he was going to get away from the trouble he'd caused for himself, Hadria had called out to him and invited him to join her.

There was no malice or vindictiveness in her voice, and she seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Even though she was evidently caught doing something she shouldn't be doing… Which was stuffing a whole goat into the maws of her Lethifold.

"That is disgusting," said Merlin, because danger had never stopped him from being honest or snarky before.

"You should see a snake eat. It's a lot worse than this," Hadria merely responded conversationally. "They prefer live food, and you can see the poor animal still struggling futilely as it gets—"

"Alright, I didn't need that description."

Hadria grinned cheekily. Then she turned to consider her pet, and patted it on its head.

"Merlin, meet Noh. Noh, meet Merlin."

Merlin coughed. "You're not going to feed me to it, are you?"

"I like you. So, no," The raven-haired girl laughed in reply. Her response wasn't as reassuring as Merlin had hoped it would be, and Hadria seemed to realised that, because the next thing she said was, "Don't worry. Noh's best for acting as a cloak. With a bottomless pocket."

She demonstrated by putting her hand into the creature's mouth and withdrawing a overgrown ferret. A live ferret that wriggled and said, "At long last! Fresh air! Blasted bitch!"

"Sorry, Snag," Hadria said sheepishly. "But I did tell you that Camelot doesn't like talking animals."

Merlin stared. And finally found his voice.

"It talks!"

The ferret swivelled its head to give Merlin a condescending glare. "Dumbass."

"Snag! What have I said about insulting friends?"

"Yours. Not mine. Grimalkin."

She stuffed the ferret back into the Lethifold. "Sorry about that. I'm told it's natural for Jarveys to be rude."

Merlin later learned that Jarveys were ferret-like magical creatures capable of human speech, but were generally bad-mannered to anyone and everyone. They were also good for pest control, able to quickly eradicate all sorts of infestations, from rats to… gnomes.

"Are you a witch?" Merlin asked Hadria one day, when he realised she never really attempted to hide anything for him, and being direct seemed the best way to get answers from her.

"Yes," she said, and continued to stitch up the hole in her spare tunic. She didn't deny it, even though being a witch was practically treasonous, but she didn't ask him to join her in some nefarious plot to overthrow Camelot either.

It left Merlin feeling quite lost. So he decided to be even more direct, and asked, "Are you in league with Morgana?"

Now Hadria looked up, eyebrows raised comically. Then she burst out laughing. "She wishes. But no, she's selfish and she messes with forces beyond her understanding. She will gain no help from me."

Merlin suddenly remembered what the dragon said about Hadria being an aberration, and a thought struck him like lightning.

"What are you?" He asked.

"A witch," she answered with a cryptic smile. But Merlin heard what was not said: A force beyond Morgana's understanding.

Her eyes never changed colour, even when she was clearly showing off to Merlin.

A silvery nine-headed wyrm danced around her, glowing brightly in the night, like it was made of stars and moonlight.

She taught him how to produce his own Patronus when he asked, and it took him a month to master it.

Since the time he learned of her magical ability, he had asked her to demonstrate it for him, and it wasn't long before they were teaching each other spells and the like. But whenever Hadria performed magic, be it conjuring fire and ice, turning apples into roses, or transforming herself into a black coyote, her eyes always remained that strange crystalline green.

Not once had Merlin seen them burn with golden light, and he realised it meant that she could get away with casting spells far more easily than he.

When Merlin asked the dragon about Hadria's magic and her unchanging eyes, Kilgharrah grew uncharacteristically sombre.

"I know not why the Hallowed One has green eyes," he said.

"But you can guess?" Merlin prompted.

The dragon shifted his large body and unfolded his wings. "Untempered, the Sun would sooner incinerate life than nurture it with its power. But green is the colour of balance."

"I don't get it!" Merlin found himself yelling up at the leaving dragon. But the dragon was gone, leaving Merlin with only a riddle and more questions than before.

The Disir waited. They knew the King and his Warlock were coming.

There was a decision to be made. To save Mordred or let him die. To bring magic back to the lands, or leave Albion a lost dream. The wrong choice would condemn Arthur to a tragedy, and Merlin was scared.

But in the moment the Disir gave their ultimatum, the fate of Albion and her King was set. A Grim visited Mordred as he hovered between life and death, and he quailed under the burning gaze of the black hellhound.

"It cannot be," he whispered into the void of his mind. But fate and destinies were funny things. He who was supposed to wield a dragon-forged sword, had looked into the eyes of death, and there was no turning away.

A life for a life to set right the balance.

Mordred died, and Arthur lived.

"We rescind our words, for the choice has been taken out of our hands. It is beyond our power to help you now. The witch you know as your sister has damned herself and those who associate with her. The Druid boy has paid his price. His soul has been claimed by Death," said the Disir, displeased by the turn of events, for it was not often that a Higher Entity was involved so directly with the matters of Albion. "And there is nothing you can do to save him."

Arthur had protested and raged, and Merlin had gaped at the Disir. But on their way back to Camelot, they finally managed to process what the Disir had said, slowly but surely, realised that there were powers beyond their understanding, that even the Disir, vessels of the Triple Goddess, could not touch. There were some things which even the most powerful of magic could not do.

For one can only bargain a soul yet unclaimed by Death. Once claimed, it was beyond the reach of any High Priestess or Warlock.

(The Triple Goddess was but a Lady, a Duchess, in the grand scheme of things, and Death was a King).

And there was none to be blamed, except perhaps one's own foolishness.

When they reached back home, Gaius came out to them, and told them a Grim had taken the soul of Mordred. He had only caught a glimpse of it as it left, but was thankful the Grim had paid him no heed as it passed, for as surely as the sun would rise every dawn, he would be dead if the Grim had marked him with its deadly gaze.

"Most people pass on without ever needing to meet Death or his assistants, but if a person has done something that warrants receiving the Promise of Death, the Grim would be there to greet them," the Court Physician explained. "Such a person only ever sees the Harbinger of Death twice in their life. Once, when the Grim arrives to Mark them, and a second time, within the next twenty-four hours, when the Grim returns to collect the soul of the Marked."

Hadria was waiting for Merlin when he went to see her. He didn't know why he sought her out, but ever since they had shared the secret of magic, he found himself increasingly relying on her. He told her many things, of fate and prophecies and doom. He told her about Arthur and Mordred and trees and ivy.

He didn't know what to think about Mordred, who had started out as an innocent Druid boy but grown into a potential threat. He hadn't wished for the death of Mordred, for Merlin was a kind and forgiving soul weighed down by the yoke of destiny, but Arthur's life and the future of Albion had been at stake.

"What do you think death is like?" He couldn't help but ask.

And she turned to him, her eyes were greener than ever as she smiled softly in a way that suggested she was about to share a secret meant to be kept close to the heart…

"Quicker and easier than falling asleep," she whispered in reply, as if she were reciting a line she had repeated to herself so often that it echoed from her soul. Then she turned away to watch the sun set in all its blazing glory over the horizon.

When he looked over, the raven-haired witch had such a radiant expression on her face. It wasn't the sort of bright and cheerful sort of radiance, but a serene ethereal glow of something else. Something more.

According to Gaius's book, the Mark of Death was a rune: Hægl, which meant Hail, supposedly representing the cold descent of death. It would appear on the victim's skin like a birthmark, but Merlin thought that it would be more appropriate to call it a death-mark. And Gaius had claimed—secretly, when Arthur had left—that Hadria had entered the Physician's chambers just as the Grim was leaving, and while he couldn't be sure, she might be its next victim.

Hadria had a rune on her forehead, but it wasn't Hægl.

Barely anyone ever paid much attention to the scar, for it was a small faded thing, pale salmon-pink in the shape of a lightning-bolt. Once, when they had first met, Gwaine had asked about the scar, and she had spun such a ridiculous story that had everyone either laughing or questioning her story-telling skills—it had been something about a snake who visited her when she was a baby and had tried to kiss her, but failed because it bit her instead and died because she was so poisonous that her blood made the snake spontaneously combust—which was both funny and morbid at the same time. But it was soon dismissed as one of those things that made Hadria who she was. Strange, for sure, but not as strange as the rest of her.

Now, Merlin stared. He had never noticed before, but now that he saw it, the idea wouldn't leave him.

Hadria had a rune on her forehead, and it was the rune for Sun, Sigel, the symbol of light and warmth.

"Untempered, the sun would sooner incinerate life than nurture it with its power," the dragon had said.

And Merlin recalled the poems he had read back when he was still learning his runes. One of them had referred to the Sun as a divine entity, another associated the sun with hope, guidance and safety, while a third called the Sun a shield of clouds and destroyer of ice.

"How did you get that scar?" Merlin asked, because asking Hadria had never failed before, not for him at least.

Hadria gave him a lopsided smile. "I was Marked," she said, but did not elaborate.

But if Hadria had been Marked, not with a rune of hail, but a rune of sun, and she was still alive, a whole week after crossing paths with a Grim, then there was really only one other possibility: The Mark protected her from being Marked by the Grim.

For what hail could prevail under the heat of the Sun?

Morgana never wished to see the demon again.

One could say it started with brimstone and emerald fire. And the summoning of a djinn in the middle of a pentacle, drawn neatly in chalk with all the correct runes in perfect writing. It started when an offering of blood—a knight of Camelot salvaged from a battle with bandits—was burnt in its center.

Or perhaps it started when a woman, standing in her own, smaller, pentacle, went against the Laws and called forth the Higher Entity of Death.

The summoning of the Cailleach was one thing... But Death Themselves were never meant to be summoned by mere mortals, High Priestess of the Old Religion or not. And They were never meant to be bound by the magic of a demon circle. Never meant to be treated like a common djinn, never meant to be called to obey the wishes of anyone, never meant to be made to bow, not to a beggar, not to a king or a priest or even a goddess.

So They sent Their Champion, Their Favoured One, in Their place.

A figure took form amidst the green smoke and flickering candles, shrouded in a cloak darker than the darkest nights, only a pair of gleaming eyes, the same colour as the emerald flames, and a smile, sharp and white like a shark's, could be seen.

Then it laughed, its voice sweet and lilting like a child's, and the figure stepped outside the circle of chalk that should have prevented it from doing so. Because the rules of a djinn summoning did not apply to Higher Entities or their champions.

And Morgana suddenly realised that she might have made a terrible mistake.

That night, when the sorceress woke up, she found herself lying upon stone-hard ground, the candles burnt out and chalk lines smudged. The sky was the deep blue of before-dawn, and the full moon was a fading silver orb sitting upon the horizon. The figure she had summoned was long gone, and she could only wonder if she had gone too far this time, if she had meddled with something worse than she had ever dared to, if she had doomed the world to an early apocalypse she had never meant to cause.

But it was not the world that had been doomed, but herself. For the demon in the form of a girl returned one night, during the time when the moon was high and Morgana couldn't be sure if she was awake or dreaming.

This time, the demon appeared with another of its kind, its kin, a black canid formed from shadows and obsidian fire.

The girl's cloak flickered in the dark, so black it was visible even in the gloom of the room, and for a moment, there were three pairs of eyes watching her—the cloak was a living thing?—But then its eyes disappeared, and all that was left were four identical aureate orbs.

Morgana could swear that the demon's emerald eyes had been unearthly, but now, as they glowed with the molten gold of magic, they were even more alien, for they resembled nothing like the usual golden eyes of a sorcerer or sorceress.

These were the eyes that inspired the creation of the Phoenix Eye, so bright, lambent and pure in its gilded light that it was blinding, but she couldn't glance away.

When dawn came again, and Morgana awoke, her eyes hurt, as if she had spent too long staring at the sun. But she couldn't remember what had happened in the night, except that it had been important. She would only find, later upon taking a bath, a pale mark had appeared upon her chest, directly over her heart: two vertical lines bridged by a pair of parallel diagonal ones, like a H with skewed double-bars in the middle instead of the usual single straight one.

But she didn't think much about it, and went out with Aithusa to ambush the King, the Queen and their servants. It was only when a sword forged in dragon fire pierced her heart, right through the mark, that she remembered the events of the night.

And though her killer stood behind her, she did not attempt to turn to see who it was—she didn't need to, anyway. Instead, she looked forward, right into the unwavering emerald gaze of the Queen's maid. Morgana wondered how she had never noticed before... After all, those haunting green eyes were nigh unforgettable.

I will be releasing Gwen from your nefarious plans, the demon girl whispered into her mind, Her soul was not yours to play with.

And the last thing Morgana heard before darkness claimed her was a bark-like laugh.

Merlin was glad she turned away at that moment, for he didn't think he could tear his own eyes away if she hadn't.

Her eyes did not light up the way most do, even then. It was not a golden flame that burned away the colour of her eyes. It was less like the kindling of fire, and more like the removing of a shade.

The emeralds that her eyes seemed to hold vanished then, leaving her eyes in a flash of green, and what remained, hidden but now revealed, twin suns burning in a pale sky.

It was but a glimpse, and Merlin was grateful for it. For now he could say he's seen the eyes of Death, and lived to tell the tale.

Morgana however, wasn't as fortunate.

The black dog came later, when no one was looking, just a fleeting shadow in the corner of one's eyes. And then it was gone, taking the fallen witch's soul with it.

"That was Scáth, by the way," Hadria said casually, when they met in the kitchens, preparing to deliver the royal couple their breakfast. And Merlin had to take a few seconds to figure out what she was talking about.

Then he stared at her incredulously once he realised they were discussing the Grim as if it were a pet dog or another one of Hadria's (dangerous) animal friends. It probably was a familiar of Hadria's, now that he thought about it.

Sometimes, Merlin mused, Speaking with Hadria makes me feel like I might just know how Arthur feels, when he has to put up with my woodworms, moths and other nonsense.

Hadria laughed as if she could read his mind, and her shining eyes were the comforting green of leaves shielding the sun.

"Neither the sun nor death can be looked at steadily." - François de La Rochefoucauld

When Arthur inevitably dies, Merlin wonders if he can bear his own immortality. But one night, he falls asleep and there Hadria stood, in his dream, come back from whatever universe she had been visiting. She looks different, but Merlin can't quite identify the whys, whats or hows.

She offers to bring him with her on a vacation.

"Where to?" Merlin asks. He's curious, he's never been to another universe before, and the idea is just as foreign to him now as when he first heard it from her.

Hadria smiles, and there's something about it that promises peace, safety, and life.

"Past the grey rain-curtain of this world, where all turns to silver glass… White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

It sounds wonderful, so Merlin lets her lead him through fields and trees, in the direction of the lake, and they reach just as a pale moon rises. The lake is no longer a lake, its gleaming waters stretching far and wide, and there at the bank, is a sleek grey ship.

"Is this real?" Merlin can't help but wonder. "Or just happening inside my head?"

She laughs as if he had said something really funny, and says, "Of course it is happening inside your head, Merlin, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

And he follows her up onto the ship, which is as grand as it is elegant, and looks like it could hold all of Camelot's knights in it. But they are the only two people on board when the ship begins to leave the shore, cutting across calm shimmering waters, pale sails catching a non-existent wind.

When dawn arrives, the other shore is in sight, and Arthur is standing there, looking like he might just reprimand Merlin for being late. Beside him is Gwen, and behind them are all his friends—Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, Percival. Hunith and Balinor are together, hands on each other's shoulders as they stand on Arthur's other side. Will and Gaius are with them.

Merlin feels his jaw drop in surprise, and he whirls around abruptly. He sees Hadria thanking Freya for the smooth journey, and her eyes, when she turns to face him, her eyes are a molten gold, had been golden since the day before, but he had not notice until now, as they seem to shine as brightly as the rising sun.

He finds that it's easy now, to look away from those ardent eyes, to gaze instead upon his friends and family…

Home. Hadria has brought him home.

Finis.

Thank you for reading!

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