I don't own Merlin, or the whole dagger idea. It's basically just the Dark One curse from Once Upon a Time.

PART ONE

Morgana held the dagger in her hands, practically trembling with excitement. This was it; the beginning of the end. The start of a new era, a new reign of Camelot.

Her reign.

She ran a finger over the name engraved on the blade.

Emrys.

She grinned. Prophecy said he was to be her doom. But she would change fate. Instead, Emrys would be the key to her victory.

Holding the blade out at arm's length before her, Morgana relished the following words. "Ic abeodan bé, Emrys!"

He would come to her, and together they would bring Camelot to its knees.

Merlin could usually feel when something was about to go wrong. He was at the center of so many disasters that, he supposed, he just could recognize the signs.

Something was definitely going to happen. It would be soon, and it would not be pretty.

Merlin dreaded what it would be. Destiny was upon them, and could happen in so many ways. Mordred had joined Morgana, and surely told her of his true identity. The witch would never let that information go to waste. She would strike, and soon. All because Merlin could not bring himself to trust Mordred.

He had heard of self-fulfilling prophecies, and supposed this could turn into one. Perhaps it already had. Mordred had never been a threat to Arthur in Camelot. Not until Merlin had allowed Kara to be killed.

Kara, despite all of the differences between them, reminded him of Freya. Mordred had unwittingly found himself in the same position as Merlin had several years ago, in loving an enemy of Camelot. Both women had paid the ultimate price for their crimes against the kingdom. Only Merlin's loyalty could withstand the blow.

Merlin had always disliked Mordred. He distrusted him for acts he had yet to do. Acts that were now sure to come to pass. Acts that likely would never happen if Merlin had taken a chance.

Merlin pushed away his guilt. It was too late for that; lingering in the past would do nothing but hinder his ability to deal with the future. It was bound to be terrible, and distracting thoughts would do him no favors.

Shaking his head and blinking away his dreary thoughts, Merlin adjusted his grip on the shirt he was scrubbing.

Merlin was perfectly happy to focus on the monotony of the task at hand. He didn't much want to think about his past failures. His blue eyes focused intently on the soapy water that sloshed at his every movement. The front of his shirt was already soaked.

A sharp tug at his mind made him stop. Come here, it whispered. Come to me. I command it.

There were other servants washing their masters' laundry here. He knew he shouldn't. But for some reason, that didn't matter. He needed to go to this person. And somehow, he knew exactly where to go.

His eyes glowed that forbidden gold, and the laundry room disappeared.

And then Morgana appeared in its place.

"Hello, Emrys," she hissed. She held a dagger before her, awkwardly and at arm's length. Merlin let his eyes dart side to side quickly, before settling on her. They were in a castle, however old and broken it appeared to be. Morgana's hidden fortress.

So Mordred did tell her. Merlin had been expecting it, but still found himself disappointed. The anonymity of Emrys had been such an advantage.

Merlin forced himself to focus at the issue at hand. Somehow, Morgana had summoned him here. He knew she was powerful – she was, after all, a High Priestess of the Old Religion – but the sort of power he felt in that single tug was not her own. She had help.

She was also unafraid. What had happened to the fearful witch in the woods, who ran at the sight of an old man, all because of a name?

A name she could now without a doubt pin on Merlin. And the first thing she did with that information was summon him? She knew of his power, and of the part he would play in her end. Why would she go to all this trouble, when for all she knew it would just bring about her death all the faster?

Not that Merlin was complaining, it it was indeed going to end that way. He was tired of Morgana, and of the nuisance she had become.

"Morgana," Merlin returned, appropriately wary. It didn't take a genius to realize something very wrong was going on here.

"I've been waiting for his moment," she breathed, in awe of what she had done. She looked at the dagger reverently, like it was gold in her hands. "The beginning of the end. Arthur's end."

Merlin felt his face grow cold with anger. He was tired of this game. "You know I won't let that happen." He raised his right hand menacingly.

Rather than run away again, Morgana only laughed. "You can't hurt me," she said. She was right, a little voice in the back of his head told him. "So put that skinny little arm down."

And Merlin did. For a second, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She had said it, and so it had to be done. But then he thought for a moment, and realized that it was, in fact, the most unnatural sensation he had ever experienced. He felt how Arthur must have after Merlin had taken away his free will. For the first time, Merlin felt fear.

Merlin looked at the dagger again, and understanding began to dawn on him. That dagger was important. Was she controlling him through it? Everything that had happened thus far seemed to suggest it.

"What have you done to me?" Merlin demanded.

Morgana sneered at him, coming in close and taking his face in her free hand. "Only what you deserve." Her breath was putrid, along with the rest of her. The years had not treated her well.

"And what is that?" Merlin wheedled. He hoped her need to gloat would keep her talking.

"Quiet," she snapped, and Merlin swallowed his disappointment. "I'm tired of your talking."

She paced until another idea struck a few moments later. "And kneel."

Merlin felt his face burn at the humiliation, but did as he was told. He could not fight against her commands, not at the moment. If there was one thing Merlin had learned in his past ten years defending Camelot, it was that he was often exceptional.

He would bide his time, build up the strength and the power. He would succeed.

He would kill Morgana.

Morgana smirked. "So this is the almighty Emrys. Not so mighty now, are you? I've brought you to your knees."

So she was in the gloating mood. Good.

"And I'll bring you down even farther. So far, you won't have anything left to live for. Arthur will be gone and I will be queen, and it will be because of you. You'll be the one to do it, of course. I always thought I would be the one to kill my dear brother, but no. This way, I can watch both your faces as you kill him." She threw back her head and laughed. It made Merlin sick with anger. "Oh, it will be wonderful to watch."

Morgana's wicked smile grew, and she knelt in front of him, now at eye level. Merlin felt the sharp end of the dagger beneath his chin, felt the blood start to drip down his neck. He met Morgana's eyes, his blood boiling with the indignity of it all.

"This dagger," she whispered, her gaze fraught with perverse enjoyment, "has been bound to your magic. With it, I can make you do anything I like."

Merlin's heart stopped. Morgana noticed the look of horror on his face, and her smile widened.

"You will kill Arthur. It will be long, and painful, and there will be nothing you can do to stop it. You will help me take Camelot as my own, and I will take my rightful place at the throne. All you've built, all you've worked to protect, Emrys – it will all come crashing down with you by my side."

Morgana leaned in even closer, her lips brushing against his ear. Merlin fought back a shiver of disgust. "Because I will never let you die. I know you'll want to, after everything I will make you do. But you won't. I want to see your face every day, and see how much you've suffered. You will be my puppet for all of eternity, whether it be to me, or to my children, or my grandchildren ... For I have heard the prophecy, my dear Merlin, and I know the meaning of you true name. Emrys.

"Immortal."

She cackled.