Revised July 2012.

An experiment.

That's what this is.

The writers have taken too many liberties in the show, from killing Lancelot to making Mordred a druid with magic. But we still love it, don't we? I know it's not that realistic to have Morgana still being ignorant of Merlin being Emrys but I needed to fit her vision in this. :)

Please enjoy.

First

Morgana's Epiphany.

Camelot's red flag was a bright point against the darkening sky. The High King's soldiers didn't dream. They were awake and silent, for hours to come, until the dawn broke.

Trembling fingers fastened King Arthur's red cloak with utmost care and the Court Sorcerer's eyes, deep and troubled, did not seek his King's as his hand lingered on the red worn material, as if his touch could keep time from running and that gloved palm from taking the hilt of Excalibur and step away from the security of the dark tent, into the heavy stench of the carnage that had graced the fields of Camlann for days.

One blond eyebrow rose, noticing his discomfort. Those lips tugged upwards in a lopsided grin and his King shook the scrawny shoulder.

"Merlin? Why are you shaking so?"

"It's nothing, Arthur."

She'd waited so long for it.

So, so long.

Her hand was placed on Mordred's neck; her voice whispered "Kill him."

"You needn't to ask, My Lady." He said.

While King Arthur dispatched yet another enemy Merlin fought with The Lady Morgana, not too far from his friend.

The mighty warlock, or as he is referred with reverence, Emrys, was almost at the end of his strength. He was fighting in the form of Dragoon the Great, his white beard floating as the wind carried the screams from soldiers in both sides. It had been years since Arthur had finally been told, and after much tears and endeavors, Arthur had accepted Merlin as his right hand and advisor.

As the other side of the coin.

But even after all those years…Merlin just couldn't bring himself to tell her. To tell Morgana how he had failed her. To tell her how he, too, had magic, and how he had somehow betrayed her by leaving her all alone to figure it all out. Merlin still felt that it was his fault that Morgana had turned to the wrong side and deep in his heart he couldn't forgive himself…

So Morgana was now fighting who she believed to be her destiny and her doom, both terrified and completely reckless, her green eyes shining feverishly and her lips curled into a feral snarl. There was nothing of the Morgana that had been Uther's ward all those years ago. Only a primal, almost inhuman sense of revenge and blood lust that had driven the witch to use necromancers and dark beasts against her half-brother, the fabled King Arthur...

The King in question was fighting Mordred at that time, the sound of their swords clutching together as both men danced a mortal compass against the descending sun. She noticed with bloodshot eyes how the sight made the old man in front of her pale dangerously.

"Why so frightened, Emrys?" she asked softly. eyes lit up with cold hate. "Do you fear I will win this war?"

"Not by the slightest, Morgana" Emrys said, and he had renewed fighting with amazing and natural talent, and Morgana could barely defend herself. Their spells clashed in mid-air, sending bright lights flying all over the bloody field.

"I can even begin to describe to you how glorious it will be when Arthur's finally dead." she said, conjuring fire out of her hands and watching the field burn at her command. "I will finally, finally, reach my place upon the throne"

His pale face looked up so that his eyes were piercing hers.

"I'm afraid that will never happen" Emrys retorted angrily.

Morgana's smile turned into a scowl as she summoned everything she had. It was now or never.

She could hear Mordred's enraged cry as he buried his sword into King Arthur's chest, and then suddenly Mordred fell silent.

but for Morgana it wasn't important anymore.

Throwing a mighty blast force at Emrys she let out a tight scream when the force returned to her, making everything fade into a white light and then…nothing...

...When the witch came into her senses she found Emrys staring down at her, an indescribable expression in his withered face. He sighed heavily as she panted for breath, feeling the familiar warmth of blood dripping from her head wound.

Her hand extended towards him, driven by a desire to survive stronger than any prophecy. Morgana's dirt covered fingers reached for the tall man, her eyes wide as she gasped and her throat burned with the taste of warm dust.

"Help me, Emrys" she whispered.

She could see the sprawled form a fallen warrior (Arthur?) just behind Emrys. As the man sighed once again, Morgana saw tears trickling down the old man's cheeks.

"Is this what you really wanted, Morgana?" Emrys barely mumbled, his eyes so sad that she flinched inwardly. Those eyes…she had seen them before…

Just when she thought Emrys would finally kill her, as it was written before time, a soft groan could be heard. And in front of her disbelieving eyes her brother roll weakly on his side, sucking a desperate lungful of air and those clear eyes opened and blinked, wandering around slowly.

He was alive.

The sword that still protruded from his side held him down, though, and the High King of Albion let out a whimper when he rested his eyes upon it, grabbing the hilt and pulling slowly. The offending weapon slid from his side smoothly, finally laying on the ground besides the fallen warrior. Arthur's chest drew breaths frantically and Morgana, still confronted by the tall figure of Emrys, could see his lips forming words, a name, that he needed by his side.

Those eyes finally focused on the scene they were seeing and something came alight in the blue depths while unmistakable affection rested upon his weary face and a weak whisper roused from his lips. "...lin?"

Those soft eyes of the old man, of Emrys, came alive as if the deep despair that had taken hold of him had lifted from his soul. Morgana saw him turn around faster than she could've think possible, and the heartfelt sigh of pure alleviation that came from Emrys' lips was like nothing she'd heard before.

"Arthur!" he cried out, kneeling by the side of his fallen monarch and taking the King's hand affectionately between his own, placing his withered hand on the alabaster brow of the greatest king ever to live, feeling the faint life beneath his fingers.

King Arthur smiled, then. A smile brighter than the falling sun, one that was filled with accomplishment and affection. He clutched Emrys' hands tightly in a brotherly gesture.

"It's alright…" the King of all Albion said with the faintest of breaths. "I'm glad you're here…"

But Emrys' didn't let him finish, a tear rolling down his cheek as he shook his head softly.

"You're not going to die, you prat." the old sorcerer rolled his eyes as he spoke, wiping on the thick earth the red tint of the royal blood. He tried to smile but the thick emotion in his voice betrayed him. "I'm going to heal you right now"

Arthur, the golden King, the hero of Albion, grinned. The light on his eyes faded, ever so softly, and they slipped close at his own accord. "It's too…late…" he whispered. "Even...for...you."

Emrys face deepened, his expression an odd mixture of panic and pure sorrow...

...and Morgana, oddly enough, felt as if she had been given a great gift by watching this. The old man had whispered, almost tenderly. "Is never too late." and then proceeded to hover his trembling, withered hand over the wound.

To Morgana's astonishment the wound healed entirely, even if the old man was suddenly swaying in his feet and seemed in the verge of collapse. Arthur's sky blue eyes, alert and alive, snapped open and Morgana couldn't help but feel the cruel sting of disappointment while the King glared at the man in front of him, grasping his shoulders.

"You idiot!" King Arthur exclaimed. "what did you do?"

When Emrys just laughed it off and smiled - such a warm, sincere smile- Morgana felt anger like never before rise inside her. Her hands trembled with discording fury as her eyes fell on Mordred, cold and still and dead besides King Arthur's glowing form. No, He'd stopped being Arthur. He was now the golden King of a land that had rejected her, a land that she desired with every drop of her blood.

"This is not over." she sneered. Her hands played with the lace of her dress as she took a dagger out of her ripped clothing, turning it over in her hands as memories of her birthday and Arthur's smile flashed across her frenzied mind. She raised the dagger above her head...

Arthur saw her.

He saw her and his eyes got wide, soft and terribly vulnerable as he sought, once again, the part of her that she'd buried alive in the deepest recess of her heart.

and then...

...she threw.

But the old man caught Arthur's glance and, before Arthur could do anything he had positioned himself in front of his King, his eyes fierce as he extended his arms, as if to embark Arthur's whole body and Morgana's dagger, with immense precision, ebbed itself on the thin chest of the old sorcerer.

On Emrys.

A nauseating happiness invaded her when the sorcerer's brilliant eyes locked with hers before his gaze fell towards the dagger, staring at it for the longest of moments, staring as his life poured from his wound.

Then, those bright eyes looked directly into the endless pit of destiny before dragging themselves towards Arthur...

Arthur, the golden King, whose face was pale with feral fear and denial while he stretched his hand towards Emrys, as if he was willing for it all to reverse. As if the worse mistake ever made had taken place before his very eyes.*

"NO!" The High King's inhuman scream echoed through the suddenly silent battlefield.

And Morgana…for her life, she could never comprehend what happened. The old sorcerer disappeared and instead, in front of her, swaying on his feet and blood bubbling from his chest was…Merlin.

Merlin.