Maybe someday (A Merlin fanfic)

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The sun was already gone. It's last rays peeking beyond the horizon as it dipped further in. Merlin was never a fan of sunsets. He knew it was beautiful and many preferred it to sunrises, but he hated its symbolism. The thought that something so big that provided the earth with light and warmth was disappearing, if only for calculated hours, was discerning. He was never a fan of the sun in general, but he was, nevertheless, grateful for its existence.

The moon, though, that was something that always captured his interests. It was a mere reflection of the sun, that he knew, something that had nothing of itself, only portraying. But despite it all, he couldn't shake off the feeling of familiarity. There was something more to the moon, of that he was certain.

Perhaps that was why he found himself roaming the halls silently at night. The only light that shown was the moon's, illuminating his way as he sped through. The castle was eerily quiet, with only the occasional sounds of birds and the quiet wind as it lapped through the tapestries hung. The temperature dropped slightly and he hugged his cloak closer, shying away from the cold. The cold. That was another thing that displeased Merlin. More often than not, it would creep into his tiny room, regardless of the closed window.

His footsteps echoed strangely across the hall as he passed with ease. Knowing the castle like the back of his hand, and having many times sneaked into and out of it, he was sure he wouldn't be caught. And even if by silly odds he was caught, he could simply put the supposed guard to sleep. Besides, everyone knew that he was the king's manservant, and any such accusations were not to be held lightly.

A few minutes later he was already in the forest. He navigated easily through the trees, and jumped across a log that he was fairly certain was there, in spite of the darkness that coated the area. He walked for another five minutes until he reached his destination. The small cot was shabby. Mold crept on the sides as it ate at the wood. A tile was missing from the roof and he was fairly certain that if not for its current resident, it would have been long gone.

He knocked. Even though he was fairly certain she knew who was knocking at such atrocious hour. For absolutely no one knew of her little hideaway. He had been having second thoughts, contemplating whether or not he should go, but as he knocked slightly on the crooked door, he knew that there was no turning back. He had some things he needed to say, and he would make sure he didn't return without saying them.

It opened slightly, allowing him to glimpse her face and the hand that opened the door. As soon as she saw him recognition crossed her eyes and she opened the door fully. He stared at her, not knowing what else he could do but. Her beauty never ceased to amaze him. Despite the fact that her physical appearance had slightly degraded throughout the years, he still found her to be gorgeous.

She had bags under her eyes, no doubt from the nightmares that constantly plagued her, and her skin was paler-if it was possible-than he remembered. In spite of that, her eyes held firmness. Icy blue as they looked at him with something aching to hatred. Despise. Or perhaps disdain. He couldn't tell. But he knew she was definitely not happy to see him.

For some reason, she remained quiet as she ushered him in and closed the door behind him. she sat, regally and poised, as if a queen on her throne, but she didn't offer him a seat. So he stood, looking into her eyes for the longest time before her statement snapped him out of it.

"Why are you here?"

It was uttered with such venom that he slightly and involuntary recoiled.

He couldn't let her think she scared him. No. He would never allow it. Schooling his features, he looked at her with as much contempt as he could muster.

"I hate you." He uttered.

And it was the truth. They both knew it. She had done so much evil, hurt so many people he loved, that any and all feelings he had for her were long crushed. All he saw was a shell of the women he loved. A woman obsessed with the throne of Camelot, hungry for blood, for power.

She quirked an eyebrow and smirked, deciding to stand from the chair she had previously been sitting on. "I hate you too." Almost in a sing-song voice.

She wanted to kill him. Slice his throat and watch him bleed as she laughed above his cold, dead body. She wanted to stab him in the heart and twist her blade then watch as his face contorts into pain; unimaginable pain, she hoped. Oh, how she longed for that. How she longed to destroy anyone who opposed her. First Merlin, then Arthur and then Camelot would bow to her.

One day, she would seize that. But first, she had to kill him.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you, Merlin."

It was his turn to smirk. "Are you sure that is something you can do, Morgana?" He poured himself a goblet of water and downed it, all the while his eyes never left hers.

She scoffed. The lowlife servant thought she couldn't do it. Well, he was gravely mistaken. But would she be able to do it?

A flutter of doubt coursed through her. This was Merlin. He was her friend. He helped her free Mordred. Brought her flowers when she had nightmares. He was the one to bring her to the druids when she was all but confused about her magic. Could she really end his life? Would it be easy for her?

No. Friends do not poison you she reminded herself. Friends don't lie to you and try to kill you-more than once even. Friends do not stand against you. He was not her friend. Not anymore. It would bring her pleasure to see him dead.

He watched as she seemed to be having an inner debate. Shuffling until her back was to him. He guessed she was pouring herself a drink. Pity. That was all he felt for her. He secretly blamed himself for what she had become. If only he had shown her his magic, maybe things would've been different. Perhaps she would be helping him instead of planing their demise.

"Just tell me why you're here, Merlin. So I can move on to killing you." Her steely voice brought him out of his thoughts. He could not blame himself though. Not right now. Of course, he hadn't shown her his magic, but he also didn't push her towards evil, never told her to hate Uther. That was her own doing. He had tried his best to provide his aid without telling her the truth. But he would not let her dangle her poisoning in front of him for long.

"I came to offer you something." He said, eyeing her.

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion coursing through her. Whatever it is, it couldn't be good.

"And what is it that you," She gestured to him, "can possibly offer me." She highly doubted there was anything. "I am, after all, the high priestess of the old religion." She turned around, her skirt fluttering a bit with the motion. She circled him once, twice, and he almost squirmed under her scrutinizing gaze.

He readied himself. Breathing deeply, he contemplated whether he should just walk out of there and pretend he never saw her. No, he told himself, he was tired of living in fear of Morgana's next attack. He would take matters into his own hands, no matter the cost.

He put a hand to his chest where his heart was in an attempt to calm its erratic beating. He just hoped beyond hope that this plan would work.

"I offer you Emrys."

Honestly, this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year. I have erased and rewritten it over a thousand times, but I think it's finally ready to be read.
Tell me what you think of the story so far.
As usual; votes, comments and any and all criticism is highly appreciated!
Enjoy!

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