Young Writers Society

“To the pancake house, eh?” The Doctor rested his hand on the lever, holding it there for a moment as he looked at each person individually. John and Sherlock were standing side by side, arms crossed with vacant expressions on their faces. Arthur was between Morgana and the door, still holding his sword towards the witch, who had obviously gotten out of the wrong side of bed. She was pouting like a child, and glaring at her maidservant, who was returning the attention with a death stare. Tensions were high in the Tardis, and the Doctor sighed when no one replied to him.

“Pancake house it is, then.” He flicked the lever, and the blue box began its journey through the time vortex; lights flashing, brakes wheezing, dials buzzing.

Then a thought entered his mind. Where was Merlin? Panic struck Eleven's hearts, making them thump in his chest -up down, up down- in sync with the Tardis' wheezing. He hadn't left him in Camelot, had he? The Doctor could only imagine what Uther would do if he found Merlin in the Lady Morgana's chambers, clearly an associate of the freshly-escaped sorcerers. Could the young warlock have slipped through the time machine's doors and fallen into the vortex? By now, each individual atom would be floating throughout time and space, no trace of the man left. Could Sexy have eaten him? That could happen, possibly... maybe not. But whatever had happened, the Doctor knew that Merlin definitely wasn't in the console room.

“Where's Merlin?” He asked calmly.

“Probably in the tavern,” Arthur shrugged. Then he took his eyes off Morgana for a moment and glanced either side of him. Eleven noted the new bead of sweat which formed on the prince's brow as he lowered the sword, attention now off Morgana, and swung his head more frantically around.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted. Gwen carefully shuffled around the room, joining the search when no reply was heard. She was moving like a beaver on an icy lake, as if she expected the Tardis floor would suddenly fall away and she'd find herself floating in space. Morgana made a triumphant sound deep in her throat, and slowly edged one foot forwards now that the attention was off her. But the Doctor saw, and so did Johnlock. The detective grinned in amusement; he knew just as well as Eleven that Morgana couldn't escape. Not if she valued her life. John, however, pulled out his gun and aimed it at her.

“Don't move, m'lady,” he said mockingly. The witch froze, her eyes narrowing.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted again. Right. Forget Morgana, the warlock was the Doctor's main concern at the moment. He turned from the console, and looked through the transparent floor at the level below. No, he wasn't there. Surely he couldn't have fallen into the vortex-

CRASH! Everyone jumped as the sound of clashing metal echoed through the Tardis.

“Sorry!” Merlin shouted, emerging from one of the halls which linked the console to the labyrinth of rooms and pathways. He waved a hand behind him in dismissal. “I knocked something...” He looked exceptionally happy, as if knocking something over was the best thing that had happened since the invention of pancakes.

“Where have you been?” Arthur scolded his friend, trying to mask his concern.

“Exploring.” Now his childish grin made sense. The Tardis housed enough wonder to amaze even the dullest of souls. And the Doctor had met plenty of dull souls in his time. “This place is amazing.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Eleven smiled in return. “But please don't wander too far, even you could get lost... you could step into a gift box one second and emerge in a forest the next.” The Doctor perked up, that was actually a brilliant idea. He made a mental note to screwdriver-up a forest-y, teleport-y gift box the next time he got bored.

“Actually...” The Doctor tiptoed around Morgana (who looked like she was about to burst in a fit of anger) and placed a hand against the Tardis door. “Come here, Merlin, let me show you everything.”

“Everything?” The warlock said in awe and eagerly joined the Doctor, ignoring everyone else in the room. He was completely mesmerised by Sexy, and Eleven couldn't blame him.

“Everything.” He winked, and pushed softly against the wood. The door swung open, and in a moment of utter disbelief and childish delight, the thousands of stars and galaxies swirling in his eyes, Merlin was introduced to the universe.

Sherlock coughed from the background, causing Morgana to turn around. “Tell me, Morgana Pendragon-”

“She's not a Pendragon.” Arthur interrupted, his attention turning back to the problem at hand. As he spoke, he waved his sword in emphasis. “If I ever thought of you as a sister... you've betrayed us all.”

Morgana scoffed, “It's Uther who has betrayed us all. Persecuting innocent people...”

The Doctor, leaving Merlin to his fantasy, and the Pendragons to their argument, leapt back to the console and checked some dials. They were almost back in the present, heading towards the pancake house. Radiation levels were normal... no plasma... the radio stations were still broadcasting decent music. Satisfied, he visited Gwen, who had sat herself on one of the rails.

“Everything okay?” He asked, thinking she looked nauseous.

She rubbed the sides of her arms, her gaze not leaving Arthur. “I'm just worried, I suppose. Everything he's believed... his whole life they've been like siblings.” She met the Doctor's eyes. “Even if we can persuade Morgana to break the deal, how does he come back from this? How do any of us come back from this?” He supposed she meant the whole of Camelot, not just those in the Tardis. And he couldn't blame the future queen for worrying; sweet, irrational Gwen. She had such an amazing future waiting, if only he could just tell her. She would marry her true love, make the country safe, deliver freedom. Sure, there would be hard times. But if he could only tell her about the good.

“You'll be fine.” He placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder and surveyed the scene in front of them. Arthur was edging closer and closer to the witch, whose face was turning a more sinister shade of red each second. Sherlock was growing increasingly frustrated, and paced on the spot, whereas John looked ready to pull the trigger on his gun at a moment's notice. “And with you to guide them, everyone else will be just perf-” He was interrupted mid-sentence by the detective.

“Everyone just shut up and stand still!” Sherlock breathed deeply and nodded when everyone did exactly as they were told. The Doctor's eyes widened in disbelief, he thought he was the only one who could do that. “Good. Now, back to my question. Morgana Pendragon...”

So Sherlock clearly believed she was Uther's daughter. Eleven casually waved his screwdriver by his side, pressing a thumb against one of the buttons. “Hmm,” he muttered under his breath when the device delivered its verdict, “similar DNA. Different mother, I assume.” But no matter how quietly he talked, Sherlock must have heard, because he gave the Doctor a deadly glare. “Sorry. Please continue.”

“We require you to break the deal you have made with these... otherworldly life forms. How exactly -and speak fast- did you make the deal?”

“Why should I tell you?” She hissed.

“Because,” John steadily held the gun at her, “if you don't, I'll shoot you!”

“Fine.” Morgana began telling her story, and the Doctor listened intently, feeling like a little boy being told a bedtime story. She recounted her travels through the woods, and the shining crystals which had whispered to her, shown her visions of weapons which would make her unstoppable. “All they wanted was a home, and I could have Camelot. They just needed me to spill my blood-”

“Ah,” Sherlock placed the tips of his fingers together, “a blood oath. Well, that's easily broken, if these creatures have any common sense.”

“How?” Gwen stepped forward, leaving her position beside the Doctor. “How does she break it?” Arthur tightened his grip on the sword, even though Gwen was still relatively far from the witch.

“The oath was created with the spilling of Morgana’s blood. She can break it in the same way, reversed. By spilling the aliens’ blood.”

Eleven felt a ripple of anger fly down his spine. “That's not simple!” They couldn't just go and kill the aliens, he wouldn't have it! Sure, what they'd done was terrible, unthinkable. Who knows what trauma all those people had suffered, being displaced by hundreds of years, facing execution. And the people of Camelot, things would never be the same for them. But murder? Why did humans always resort to death? “We can't kill a whole colony!”

Sherlock didn't seem bothered by the idea, neither did his companion. Or Arthur. He flicked his head towards the door; Merlin's opinion wasn't evident, he was still absorbed by the wonders of the time vortex. Gwen wavered slightly, but she didn't seem awfully opposed either. The Doctor should have felt immensely furious at the lot of them, but he reasoned that they were scared. And the aliens were just that, aliens, not living, thinking counterparts.

“There is no other way to break a blood oath.” The detective said. He redeemed himself slightly, however, when he continued, “But the leader’s blood should suffice.”

“I'm not breaking the oath!” Morgana shouted, her face now red as a Santa's suit. “I'm more powerful than all of you, and with the guns... just you wait!” She was losing her already limited cool, he could tell. Morgana began raising her arm, began chanting foreign words. Was she casting a spell? Yes- the air around them began swirling, hissing, screaming.

Then there was a bang and everything stopped. John had fired his gun.