Halved

Prologue: The Deal

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Author's Note: Alright, well, for those of you who read What Is and What May Never Be this is the chaptered fic I was talking about (if you haven't read What Is and What May Never Be, please do *winks*) but due to popular demand I'll probably end up continuing WIaWMNB, so stay tuned for that.

For those of you who don't know me (probably the majority), I update the second I have enough material for a decent chapter. Sometimes there'll be two updates in a night, sometimes there won't be anything for weeks. This is because on top of having a finicky muse I'm also a University student and homework comes first (alas!). Fair warning!

WARNING: Slash (M/M), violence, suggestive themes and potential lemons (maybe, still iffy on this one). Not for the kiddies!

If any of the above offends you please feel free to click the back button.

The lower levels of the castle were cold, dark, and unwelcoming, but that didn't deter the slight figure in an expensive black velvet cape from striding down the dusty halls, her footsteps echoing with sharp authoritative clacks. At the end of the corridor was a heavy iron door etched up and down with strange runes and sigils of the Old Religion.

The guards snorted and woke at the sound of her approach.

"L-Lady Gertrude," stuttered the one snapping up instantly and offering a low bow, kicking his fellow in the side to get the younger man to do the same.

"I'm here to see Wendolin,"

"Of course, milady," the guard said hastening to unlock the door.

It took the two of them together to push the door open.

"Alone," the woman ordered sharply as the guard made to follow her into the dimly lit room.

The guard hesitated but bowed and murmured a quick, "Of course, milady," when it looked like the woman was going to get testy.

The door clanged shut behind her and the key scraped in the lock. Gertrude crossed the red line painted on the floor signifying the edge of the wards and approached the big table littered with books and papers in the centre of the small, dark, cold, but comfortable appointed cell.

"Uncle," Gertrude greeted softly.

The hunched figure at the table looked up the blanket falling from his shoulders as he stood revealing a stick thin old man with salt and pepper hair. One side of his face has handsome wrinkled by laugh lines and too much sun, and set with a jewel-bright blue eye, the other looked like melted candle wax the veins black and prominent against his too pale skin, the eye was a reptilian yellow-green with a slitted pupil.

"Gertrude," hissed the man silkily, "It has been far too long,"

"I have nothing to say to you, Beast! This is a personal matter and I will speak to my uncle!" snapped Gertrude.

"Tsk, tsk, so bossy...and that temper..."

"Now, Beast!"

"As milady commands," hissed the man bowing mockingly.

He froze for a brief moment and then took a great gulp of air, coughing slightly.

"Uncle Wendolin," smiled Gertrude happily.

"Gertie, my dove, what's troubling you?" asked the man in a soft comforting tenor.

"Oh, Uncle!" cried Gertrude abandoning her composure and throwing herself into the old man's waiting arms.

"There, there now, my dove, tell me, what's wrong?"

"Father and I are returning to Camelot for the annual Beltane festival, he says it's my last chance to win Prince Arthur before he marries me off to Lord Poll," Gertrude sobbed clutching at the front of Wendolin's robes.

"Then you have nothing to worry for, dove, for you are the most beautiful blossom in all of Arcen,"

Gertrude sniffed a little and giggled.

"Flatterer," she accused blinking her watery eye becomingly.

"There she is, my smiling niece," said Wendolin fondly erasing tear tracks with the pads of his thumbs.

"That's all very touching Wendolin, really, I may be sick," hissed the Beast suddenly interrupting, "But the little spitfire won't win the Prince of Camelot on her looks alone,"

"What would you know of it!" spat Gertrude indignantly.

"Any magical creature who knows the Fate of Arthur Pendragon knows that he already has a soulmate,"

"A what?"

"A soulmate. His other half, the one that completes him, his greatest friend, ally, and love," hissed the Beast mockingly, "It's disgusting, their devotion,"

"But...that makes no sense. Prince Arthur is yet unmarried, surely if he'd found this person they would be married immediately,"

"Denial, is such a wonderfully dark, penetrating emotion...like fear," sighed the Beast in obvious pleasure.

"I am sorry, my dearest dove, but Lord Poll is kind, despite his lack of brains or good looks, and his estate is rich and prosperous. He will be good to you," said Wendolin laying a consoling hand on his niece's shoulder.

"But I love Arthur! There must be a way, some way to make him forget about this soulmate! I know I could make him love me!"

"There is a way..."hedged the Beast slyly.

"No Beast!" Wendolin snapped.

"Don't you want your dearest, precious, little niecey-poo to be a happy little princess, Wen?"

"This is not the way!" bellowed Wendolin.

"Oh shut up, Wen. Get back in your box if you're not going to behave,"

Wendolin's body shuddered slightly and his blue eye rolled up into the back of his head the lid drooping to half cover it.

Gertrude took a small step back, she'd never been alone with the Beast in full control before.

"Well, little spitfire, what say you?"

"What could you do?" asked Gertrude hesitantly.

The Beast broke into a slow, evil, grin.

"I can break the bond between them, a simple little spell for one such as I, the tricky part will be getting rid of the Emrys at such a distance," hissed the Beast licking his lips in anticipation.

"Wait, no! 'Get rid of,' you mean kill don't you!"

"The only way to ensure the soul bond stays broken is to separate its halves, in this case the Prince and the Emrys. If they encounter each other after the spell is cast, even if they do not know, remember or recognize each other, the bond will simply re-form in a couple of days,"

Gertrude bit her lip.

"You could send her away, far away enough that she could never get back," she said in a small voice.

"Perhaps...it would be difficult, and I would require something from you in return..." the Beast hedged.

"What?" asked Gertrude warily.

"Energy, life force with which to fuel the spell," said the Beast promptly.

"I...I- I have to think..." said Gertrude chewing nervously on her lip and turning her back on the Beast.

The Beast came up behind her, grabbing her shoulders gently and whispering in her ear. Gertrude stiffened.

"If you don't make this bargain, you'll never have the Prince," he hissed.

The Beast took a long sniff of her hair and sighed with obvious satisfaction.

Gertrude jerked away from him.

"Don't you dare touch me!" she growled.

"Such fire, one day Gertrude, I will use all that fire to burn you alive," hissed the Beast.

Gertrude shuddered, hugging herself tightly and glaring at the Beast who held her gaze steadily. After a long moment she looked away.

"You will sever the bond between Arthur and Emrys, and separate them by distance, you will take from me only the energy absolutely necessary for these purposes," Gertrude said shakily, "Do we have a deal?"

"Agreed," hissed the Beast, "Now we seal the bargain,"

He moved faster than Gertrude's eyes could follow and clasped his mouth on hers in a bruising kiss. Gertrude struggled, but the Beast held her in a grip like a vice and Gertrude felt herself growing steadily weaker the longer the kiss stretched on. Finally the Beast released her and she slumped to the floor her legs too weak to hold her.

The small cell lit with green-yellow light as the torch and single candle flared with magic fire. The Beast seemed to grow out of her uncle's body, the ruined half of his face becoming coated with black scales and his fingers lengthening into wicked talons. A long forked tongue lolled from a mouth filled with fangs twisting to form silibant words that made Gertrude shudder weakly, her skin crawling as the oily feeling of the Beast's magic skated over her skin.

Both eyes flashed mottled black and red and with a roar of sudden wind and a crack like a whip the spell was cast.

The sickly aura faded away slowly, Wendolin's body returning to normal and shuddering with aftershocks of excitement.

"It is done," hissed the Beast languidly.

Gertrude nodded and heaved herself to her feet by sheer force of will, shuddering, shivering, and wobbling.

"Guards!" Gertrude called thankful that her voice was steadier than her legs.

She was so tired.

The clang of the heavy door signalled the arrival of the guards and Gertrude brushed passed them without a backward glance and fled the dungeons as fast as her shaky legs could carry her.

"Good luck, spitfire," hissed the mocking voice of the Beast before his cell door was slammed shut.

"You had no right to do that!" bellowed Wendolin a moment later his blue eye flashing with anger.

"It's what she wanted, she set out the terms of the deal," hissed the Beast.

"And I'm sure she knows that separating soulmates for too long kills them both!" snapped Wendolin sarcastically.

The Beast shrugged and grinned in malicious satisfaction.

"She'll just have to work quickly then, won't she,"

AN: There you have it folks!

This is the part where you review because I love hearing from you, even to rant about such and such a thing! I appreciate all questions, comments, and suggestions on plot and supplementary pairings, the more you talk to me the more likely I am to be bent to your every will and whim!