A/N Morgana can't help herself going to see the prisoner. Possible missing scene from 3x10 'Queen of Hearts'. Refers to my other oneshot 'Taunts''.

The wisdom of the old

The ageing spell was certainly an interesting one. In theory only his body had aged, leaving his mind in tact and youthful. In theory of course, he should have been able to break the spell with a few choice words, and that had been rather unsuccessful. Merlin had been here in this very cell not that long ago, feeling despondent and panicked. How things had changed, he mused, staring out of the grate, watching the pyre he was to be burned on get built higher and higher. Before, he recalled, there had been an overwhelming anxiety to get out; to escape and run. It had been suffocating, that desperate need. Now his mind was calm, serene...almost uncaring. He couldn't reverse the spell until Gaius made the antidote and here, he figured, was as good a place to wait as any.

Shutting his eyes in his wrinkled face he made a humming noise under his breath and clasped his hands behind his back, listening to each ache and creak in his old body. It was fascinating to think that this would be him in sixty odd years time; if he happened to live past tomorrow, he thought ruefully. He could feel the residual twang of every mace Arthur had swung into his back when he had acted as a target. He would remember this, he decided, and try to look after his body a bit more. Toadface would just have to take his target practice and...

Something alerted him to the presence of another. It certainly was not a noise, his hearing was no longer pristine, it was more like the sensation of eyes crawling across his skin, although it lacked the smug disdain that it had the last time he was in these circumstances.

"Good evening," Merlin ground out, not turning around, his eyes narrowed towards the fading sunlight, a strange twisted smile on his face. "I knew you would come."

"How could you possibly..." the protest burst out before rapidly being cut short.

He turned around to look at the Lady Morgana, standing almost nervously on the other side of the bars. Her usual arrogance was stripped away, leaving behind only confusion.

"Because..." he said gravelly, drawing it out, "you could not resist." He practically spat out the final word and she took a step back.

"Of course I could," she raised her voice slightly in denial. "Why should I need to see a prisoner of the King? I came here merely out of curiosity to see what a traitor looks like."

The laughter hacked out of the old Warlock's throat.

"Very well rehearsed Witchling," she gave a start at the word, glancing over her shoulder, "but you do not fool me."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Witchling," he repeated, savouring the word, "because it is true." He could almost hear the Great Dragon in his voice, and almost wished the extraordinary creature were here to see the performance. Merlin was sure he would be amused.

"You come here Witchling," he advanced on the bars and she took another step back, again glancing at where the guards lingered around the corner, fear in her gaze, "to know why I take the credit for your work."

Morgana gave a mocking smile, but it lacked full conviction, "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't," he sneered in response.

He watched with great interest, through half narrowed eyes as she drew herself up regally and set her piercing gaze on him.

"Did you mean those things you said? To Uther?"

This time he did not dignify her with an answer, merely stared her down as his own blue eyes locked with her green ones...just like before.

"Why have you not just killed him?"

It saddened him that she looked so genuinely puzzled by his distinction of right and wrong.

"You are so full of bitterness and hate Witchling that you cannot see. Your prideful ambition blinds you to truth. You plot and scheme and taint every relationship that you touch until they rot under your fingers." His voice dropped to the barest whisper, regret echoing in every chord, "continue on this path and one day you will end up alone, with those once dearest to you as your enemies. It will be a very unhappy existence for you."

As he had been talking her eyes had taken on a strange look, her brow furrowed and he knew she was no longer listening. Intently she peered closer into his face.

"Have we met?"

Even in his old body Merlin felt his youthful heart pick up speed. How could she recognise...unless she...the older, crochety part of his mind quickly ground his reaction under a slippered foot and sent him packing to sit in the far corner.

"You arrogant royals thinking you know everyone!" he snapped and shuffled over to the bed. Morgana was startled at his sudden change in manner but he no longer cared as he eased his creaking knees down until he sat on the less-than-comfortable surface. "I am done talking to you." He flapped his hand at her dismissively.

The King's Ward was dissatisfied...and she was angry about it. It yelled from stance, her eyes, the set of her jaw.

"How dare you speak to me in that way?" she half-shouted at him, her eyes in fury.

"Do not be angry at me," he jeered with a shake of his white head, "because you did not get answers to the questions you refused to ask. Do not be angry with me because I grow tired of your stubborn ways, your deaf ears, the bitterness of your heart, and so dismiss you. These are all your doings Witchling."

Morgana walked right up to the bars and gripped them until her knuckles turned pale.

"Tomorrow, old man, you will die and no one will mourn your passing, least of all me." Poison dripped on her tongue as she turned on her heel to walk away.

"Be heedful of my words!" he called out after her but she merely laughed in response, high and fake, tossing her raven hair over her shoulder.

"An old magician who thinks he knows wisdom." She curled her lip at him. "A fool who was stupid enough to get himself captured." The smile dropped from her lips like it were never there. "It is unlikely that I will heed what you say."

As her footsteps faded the old Warlock dipped his snow-capped head with a sigh. With saddened eyes, and a voice that rang with the youth he had misplaced, he murmured, "I wish you would."