Ancient Help (A Harry Potter and Merlin Crossover)

Chapter Forty-Four: The Return of Mordred

Morgana woke up with a soft, pained groan, opening her bleary eyes as slowly as she could. Once her eyes were focused, she was able to make out the familiar dilapidated ceiling of her small hovel.

With a frown, she slowly sat up from her small bed, but collapsed back in exhaustion and pain. During that process, too, some herbal leaves that was surprisingly stuck to her skin fell down on her lap. She eyed them warily and curiously, clutching one leaf and placing it against her nose. She took a quick whiff and grimaced, unable to identify what the pungent-smelling leaf was.

"You're finally awake."

Her eyes widened and she whipped around, her right hand outstretched in case she had to throw spells to protect herself. She faltered, though, upon seeing the young man standing in front of her. He was handsome and fair, with features that could win the hearts of many women in Camelot. He was younger by a lot of years than her, that was for sure, but she was able to detect the familiar qualities of a young man now matured from childhood.

His eyes were unmistakable, though. She had seen them before, had nursed him to health before... had protected him from Uther's clutches before. He was also wearing the same color of cloak that he had worn the first time she saw her, only this time, it was bigger to fit his startlingly huge frame.

"Mordred," she whispered almost breathlessly.

The young Druid calmly smiled. "Morgana," he greeted back.

Feelings burst inside Morgana's heart and she struggled to sit up once again. Here was the same boy that she had protected like her own blood, now grown into a man who she almost did not recognize. After Morgause's death, it seemed like it was the first time ever since she had felt this familiar surge of feeling in her heart.

Mordred immediately came to her aid and helped her up. Morgana desperately flung her arms around the Druid young man and clutched the back material of his cloak, unable to suppress the happiness she was feeling right now.

"I thought I would never see you again," she said, pulling slightly away to look at him. "I've thought about you for years, Mordred, and I was constantly worried about your wellbeing."

"I've always been here, Morgana," he said, comfortingly patting her back. "I've been watching over you when you least expected it. After what had happened back in Camelot and your injury, I thought it was best to show myself once again to you."

Upon the mention of Camelot, Morgana's expression turned sour. "Camelot," she spat as if it was venom. "It was almost mine but then..." She paused and shook her head; no amount of words would be able to express the frustration and anger that she felt. "Now, Gwen sits upon my throne."

"Ah, but we can change that," Mordred said, now completely pulling away from Morgana and smirking at her. "The years of my absence had a great purpose – to empower myself. I've been training and studying, learning new things that would be able to aid me in my revenge against Camelot for forsaking my people."

"I ask you to wait, Morgana," the Druid man continued. "Your wounds had weakened you and I believe it would be suicide to attack immediately. I have a plan, a great, intricate one, and I am sure that with our combined powers, we will finally be able to reach the goals that we've been coveting for the most."

Hope awakened once again in Morgana's heart, but it was soon vanquished upon remembering the greatest obstacle that they had. "We have a predicament, though," she slowly stated, her grey eyes now turning into slits. Thinking about him infused a mixture of raw anger and sheer fear in her system.

She hated herself for that.

"Emrys," she finally hissed, pouring every single negative emotion that she felt into that name. She had this suspicion that he was one reason as to why her plan had once again failed. He was the greatest obstacle that she must overcome if she wanted Camelot for herself. The problem was, he was too powerful for her to handle.