A/N: Much of the dialogue in this first chapter is taken directly from season 4 episode 6, A Servant of Two Masters. This is a quick one, simply to set the stage, and from thereon in I will be taking the story in a completely different direction than the TV show. This is my first full length fic, so any reviews or suggestions you may have for me would be greatly appreciated! I had fun working on this, so I hope that it brings you some entertainment as well :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, its characters, locations, or plot lines. That credit goes to BBC. I simply toy with the characters for my own amusement, muahaha.

An Exchange of Souls

Chapter 1

Groaning, Merlin slowly comes to. It doesn't take long for his eyes to adjust to the dark and gloomy surroundings, though he can't quite place where he is. There is something familiar about it, though...

He groans again when he realizes how stiff and achy his body is. The last thing he remembers is causing the rock slide to prevent the bandits from reaching Arthur. Stretching out his arms, he then proceeds to bring his hands to his face, trying to clear his mind.

Or, at least, he would have. Had his wrists not been bound and trussed to the ceiling of what he now recognizes as a hovel.

Oh no...

A feminine laugh comes from behind him, humourless and cold. "Good morning, Merlin. So very kind of you to come for a visit," says the voice in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Of course, he thinks. Sighing inwardly, he cranes his neck around to face the woman behind him as best he can. "Is it really?" he retorts, and without giving her a chance to reply, asks, "What are we doing here, Morgana?"

Morgana Pendragon feigns a look of confused surprise at his question, one of her trademark smirks already stretching across her lips. "Well, I don't know about you, Merlin, but I am living here." The smirk and any sign of mirth disappear from her face now, leaving it stony and cold as she glares at him. "This is my home, after all, as I seem to recall you driving me out of my last one and forcing me to live in a hovel."

"Ah, yes, well," Merlin replies. "Could you let Arthur know? He still thinks of me as an underachiever, but I'm quite proud of that accomplishment. I can die happy."

The smirk returns to her face as she simply states, "Oh, you're not going to die." She leans in close to his face, quite obviously reveling in his discomfort. After dragging out the pause, she tells him in her silkiest voice, "I'm not going to make it that easy."

And with a quick turn on her heel, Morgana slinks away into the dark corner of her shack. Leaving Merlin to dwell on the very many possibilities of what she could do to him that would make death, of all things, seem easy.

Hours later, Merlin is still strung from the ceiling. As the day had progressed, and he had finally managed to shift his mind from the various forms of torture that he may soon endure, he came to feel just how very battered and bruised his body was. Having nothing else to do now but think about how sore he is makes his already foul mood even worse.

Needless to say, it shocks him when Morgana comes up to him with hot water and rags to sterilize and tend his wounds. She works in silence, brow delicately furrowed as she focuses on the task at hand. Merlin finds himself noticing just how close the two of them are right now, how close his face is to hers. At one point, years ago when he had a crush on her, this situation would have pleased him. Now, he simply finds it revolting. But the part of him that craves human companionship betrays him, and, feeling rather stupid, he notices his cheeks warm at their closeness.

"You know, there's one thing I don't understand, Merlin," Morgana begins in a deceptively conversational tone. "You're Arthur's servant, nothing more, yet time and again you've proved yourself willing to lay down your life for him."

He can't deal with this anymore. "What are you doing?" he grates out.

Rolling her eyes at him, she replies flatly, "Have you never seen Gaius clean a wound before?"

"All right, I know what you're doing. What I want to know is why."

She grabs his chin, forces him to look into her eyes. "I believe I asked you a question first." Stony silence follows. Then, "Why are you so loyal to Arthur?"

He mentally laughs at the absurdity of this question. She knows Arthur, she used to feel the same way. This is just another sign that the person she used to be is truly gone. "I don't expect you to understand, Morgana, you have no sense of duty, no sense of loyalty." He swallows hard.

She stares at him, and the moments drag by. "You're wrong," she finally says, her voice hard. "Don't think I don't understand loyalty just because I've got no one left to be loyal to."

As much as he has convinced himself that he hates her, would kill her to protect Arthur, this last statement sends a pang of sorrow through his heart. Because he knows that he has played a very large role in making her feel this way.

She finishes up as she started, in silence, except for the brief healing spell she mutters at the end. The tension that has been stirred up between them is palpable. As she starts to move away, she lets her hand linger on his collar bone. "You want to know why, Merlin?" she asks softly. He can only glare at her. She leans in again, this time intentionally so that her lips brush his ear. "I need a body that is in good shape for my... purposes."

And once again, she is gone.