This chapter is the prequel to what will be a fairly long fic, it covers the time gap between when "Memories are Contrary Things" ends and this story begins. I will update at least once a week, sooner if I get a lot of feedback because I feel bad making people wait for more when they've taken time to review. Enjoy!

Warnings: I'm rating this T because there will be torture later on

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin... duh

It had been a year, an entire year since Morgana had fled Camelot, gravely injured and enraged over the failure of her plot. A year since Arthur had vowed to find her and a year since Merlin had sworn to kill the witch at their next meeting.

Gwen had been travelling during Morgana's attack and for that Arthur was eternally grateful. As his queen she was an important part of maintaining diplomatic relations with the neighboring kingdoms and she had been over the western border, in Caerleon, when the witch appeared. He'd sent her and two of his most trusted council members to represent Camelot in negotiating the terms of a new trade agreement between the two realms.

In the beginning Arthur had sent out patrols every few days, scouring the kingdom for any sign of Morgana but she was nowhere to be found, it was like she had fallen off the face of the earth. Group after group returned empty handed, with nothing to show for their time away, and eventually Arthur decreased the patrols to once a week and then once a month.

After such a long time the threat of imminent attack had diminished and a sense of stability returned to the castle. The general consensus was that Morgana had either died from the wound Merlin had inflicted or she was still too weak to launch a full-scale invasion of Camelot so the people grew complacent.

Arthur should have known it wouldn't last, should have known the lack of activity foretold great calamity but he wanted to believe that peace had finally come to Camelot after so many years of war and conflict. He ignored the signs because he wanted to be optimistic, wanted to live without constant fear and it was this willful ignorance that would place the future of Albion at risk once again.

...

Morgana wasn't dead, nor was she too weak to attack Camelot; she was simply biding her time, waiting for the moment when she could put her plan into action. She hid, like a spider in the dark, spinning her web thread by careful thread, content to wait for her prey to come to her, to fall unwittingly into her trap. She'd spent the past year perfecting her plan, sifting through the details to root out and meticulously repair every imperfection, one by one, until the plot was foolproof.

There was no way for her plan to fail because she knew now, knew Merlin's little secret, how he'd managed to escape every time he was captured and she had taken precautions, there would be no escape for him this time. He should have been more careful, paid more attention to who he'd offended, because now all his secrecy had been for naught, Morgana knew his secret and by the time she was done with him he would wish he had never been born.

After she had conjured the whirlwind in the throne room Morgana had been close to collapse. Unsure if she would make it out alive she drew her magic to her, pulling it in until the glowing golden orb pulsed deep inside her chest. Using the last of her fading energy she flung herself forward, pushing the magic out to carve a path through time and space; the throne room fell away as a strong wind rushed hollowly past her ears and, as quickly as it had fallen away, the world around her formed again. When her head finally stopped spinning she opened her eyes and saw, not the red and gold of Camelot, but rather, the greens and browns of the forest.

Twirling around with her arms flung out like a child Morgana laughed, not the cynical laugh that normally slid from her throat but lilting musical tones that were reminiscent of a happier time. She had done it! Teleportation was one of the most difficult forms of magic known to man and she had done it! Morgana slumped to the ground tiredly as the blood loss finally caught up with her but the smile didn't leave her face, not even as her vision dimmed and the world faded to black.

...

Mordred loved the woods, it wasn't that they made him happy, he was never happy, but he was fascinated with the complexity and vibrancy of the world beneath the leafy branches of the trees. The air itself seemed to thrum with life and purpose as every animal, down to the smallest ant, carried out its tasks with efficiency. Normally the forest was a peaceful place, ruled by order, where Mordred could escape to be alone, but today was different, something was wrong. The birds took flight, cawing loudly as he approached and small animals darted quickly through the underbrush, eyes wide with fear.

Mordred heightened his senses, scanning the woods around him for anything out of the ordinary; he reached out with his magic, identifying each life form for what it was as he brushed against it. When he finally found the source of the disturbance it wasn't a patrol, or even a hunting party as he'd expected, it was a girl.

The girl was sprawled across the ground, limbs resting at awkward angles like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The foliage below her was stained crimson with blood and her chest barely moved with each shallow breath. Drawing closer, Mordred started as he realized it was Morgana, the girl that had helped him escape from Camelot all those years ago. Her hair was fanned out behind her head, an innocent grin still lighting her pale face with childlike purity that had fled from her conscious being long ago.

Dropping to his knees beside her prone form Mordred ran his hand over the wound, lips moving soundlessly as he muttered a spell. His eyes glowed in the gathering twilight and the blood reversed directions, flowing back into the gash; soon after her skin began to crawl, writhing as it knitted itself back together until all that remained was a faint white line.

Mordred sat back, wrinkling his brow in concern as he waited for her to wake up. When he had been trapped in Camelot, hidden in Morgana's chambers, he had developed a special bond with her, one that was still as strong today as it had been the day it was formed, almost as if destiny had been drawing them together since the beginning of time. He sat up straighter, leaning forward, as Morgana's eyelids fluttered and she began to move her head slowly from side to side, moaning softly.

"Mordred?" she whispered uncertainly, blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus her vision.

Morgana, he replied, speaking directly to her mind as a small sigh of relief escaped from his lips, What happened? Are you okay?

Her hand flew to her side as she remembered the wound but it didn't come away sticky with blood as she'd expected, sitting up she looked down in confusion at the small scar.

"Did you do this, Mordred?" she asked, running her finger up and down the raised line.

He nodded, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

She narrowed her eyes, watching him dig self-consciously at the dirt with a stick. One of his legs was folded under him and he rested his chin on the other, which was pulled protectively against his chest. He had grown since she had last seen him and his magic was much more powerful than she'd imagined if he could heal such a deep wound so cleanly, perhaps she could use the boy's loyalty to her advantage.

Finishing her appraisal she crooked a finger under Mordred's chin, raising it until their eyes met. "I need you to help me with something."

Please review and tell me what you think, good start or no? I've written a companion piece called "Voluntary Silence" that details Mordred's past so if you're interested go check it out!