Young Writers Society

Red to purple. Purple to blue. Blue to... Merlin had never even seen that colour before. The vortex was amazing. It was the past, present and future all swirling together. It was all the stars in the night sky, and more. All his dreams plastered together, all his fears fighting to emerge, all his memories dancing in tune. If a wishing well came to life, it imagined it would look like this. The time vortex truly was everything.

Then everything started to fade. The swirls got smaller and smaller, like water draining away. The colours changed from magnificent, unimaginable hues to the mundane tones of everyday life, and Merlin found himself looking at earth. Except it was unfamilar; he hadn't seen this world before. The future. The buildings weren't like the wooden, thatched cottages in the outer towns of Camelot. They weren't even like his old, stone cottage in Ealdore. These buildings were tall, with perfectly shaped bricks and smooth plaster. Their roofs reached up into the sky and their walls touched so that there was only the road, and no spaces in between. The road itself wasn't dusty or made of hastily laid cobblestones, it was as if those perfect black lines had been drawn by gods.

The people were acting odd as well. In Camelot, they smiled as they passed each other, or dodged trading stalls with baskets in their hands. These people were shackled, as if prisoners, and walked in lines. They were led by perfectly normal looking folk, except for the odd weapons in their hands. They were similar to the gun Morgana had, but bigger. There weren't smiles, only expressions of hatred and fear. John and Sherlock's present was certainly an odd world. Merlin held his hand against the Tardis door frame and steadied himself as he thought, was this Albion?

Suddenly the Tardis began wheezing and the air around Merlin turned into a tornado. He'd seen this happen before, in the barn when the blue box had materialised. He held a hand against the doorframe to steady himself as the time machine made itself known to the future. And then another delight greeted Merlin; he smelt sugar. Tremendous amounts of it, more than could found in even the palace kitchens. Sweet, gooey sugar. He followed his nose and spotted the guilty party; there was a girl standing outside a pink building. She held a plate of flat bread, steam rising from the scented food.

Then she looked at him. Right in the eyes. And a gun went off.

Merlin swung around, his attention being pulled back to the interior of the Tardis. John was holding gun up, and Morgana was grabbing her knee. Blood oozed from between her fingers; the detective's friend had used his weapon on her. Everyone seemed to be frozen, shocked at the events which had just unfolded. What had happened? He'd been so absorbed by the time vortex and the outside world that he hadn't been paying attention. Merlin silently scolded himself; if Arthur had been hurt...

The witch removed her red hands from the wound and flung them towards John, screaming at the top of her lungs. In one unearthly gust of wind, the man was picked up off his feet and hovered for a second, then was thrown with force against the wall. Such was the strength of Morgana's spell that a dent was revealed in the wall as John helplessly slid down it, moaning.

Merlin leapt into action -not too late, he hoped- and summoned his magic. He felt a burning between his eyes, and channeled his power to Morgana. Free-oh-saaan. In one second she fell limp to the ground, her limbs frozen to the core. Only her eyes moved, the witch's pupils widening in shock.

~

Gwen watched in horror as Morgana conjured the winds and sent John flying into blue, glowing wall of the Tardis. The box shook as he made impact, a loud crash mixing with the now familiar wheezing sound, and Sherlock's desperate cry.

"John!" She watched the detective rush to his friend's aid, dropping to his knees beside the moaning army doctor. Moaning. He was alive, thank goodness. Still, Gwen felt obliged to check if there was anything she could do. She might not be a physician, but she was a good nurse.

~

The doctor held his hands to his head in despair. "This is what happens when you bring weapons into my Tardis!" The last time a gun had entered Sexy, she'd almost died. So had he, he recalled, and RIver. Guns and weapons were no good!

Not too far away, Arthur's typical human reflexes kicked into action and he lunged at Morgana with his sword. But to no prevail; Merlin had already acted. The warlock, no longer distracted by the time vortex, had his hands raised. The young man's eyes glowed yellow, and the Doctor wondered how the vortex had been so awe-inspiring to him. Merlin had everything within him already. The past, the present, the future. The stars, the inner threads of the earth and the magical waves of the ocean. He possessed them all.

The warlock muttered some words under his breath, and Morgana flopped to the ground like a puppet. She was frozen. The Doctor jumped up and down slightly in delight, the look on pure shock on the witch's face delighting his hearts. Obviously, she hadn't known about his magic. Eleven could only imagine what thoughts would be running through her mind right then- all this time, it was Merlin who had been watching her, foiling her plans, saving Arthur from certain death. At least now someone else knew. Well, he realised, everyone in the Tardis knew. And for Merlin, that was possibly not a good thing.

As the wheezing stopped and the air around them calmed down, the Doctor gazed towards the prince of Camelot. He was standing frozen, staring at Merlin as if the warlock's spell had touched him too. Then Eleven smelled pancakes, and he turned towards the Tardis door. They had arrived at the present, at the Pancake house.

His hearts dropped in his chest. They also had a welcoming party.

~

"You have magic?" The tone of betrayal in Arthur's voice made a lump swell in Merlin's throat. He lowered his hands, very, very slowly, trying to think of what to say. What could he say? For so long Merlin had wanted Arthur to know about his gifts, but the time had never been right. Not while Uther was still king, not while Morgana was distorting his views of magic. The time was still not right, and yet now he knew.

"I want... I wanted to tell you..." He stammered, feeling a new warmth in his eyes. Not the warmth of magic, but the stinging sensation of tears. Of all the times to cry! Merlin looked at the chaos surrounding him, the unfolding disaster. Sherlock and Gwen were hoisting John to his feet; he looked winded but more furious than hurt. Morgana was still frozen on the floor, her eyes not leaving Merlin. What was going through her mind now that she knew about him? Earlier, before Morgause's time, Merlin had thought he could help her, teach the witch to use her gifts for good. Could Morgana redeem herself, now that she knew she wasn't alone in Camelot? Merlin scolded himself and wiped his damp eyes; the dragon had warned him, there would be no redemption for Morgana. The Doctor appeared to be pulling at his oiled hair, complaining about weapons. And there was Arthur, his sword dangling in the air. Maybe the prince was deciding whether to point the sword at his servant; Merlin wouldn't blame him.

"All this time..." Arthur's words pierced his heart more powerfully than any sword could. "You've been lying to me." Any response Merlin may have uttered got caught in his throat. It was Sherlock who responded.

"It's not magic. Just evolution. The future." The detective concealed a nod in Merlin's direction, and the warlock instantly felt indebted to him. He understood their relationship, he and John were the same. Sherlock was saving him, and under the circumstances he couldn't have been any more grateful.

"You all think it's magic," Sherlock continued, "but it's only because you don't know any better. Give it time."

"I think time," John mumbled, "is something we don't have."

"Arthur..." If Gwen cared that Merlin had magic, she didn't show it. In fact, she looked completely indifferent. That was Gwen, though, all-accepting, understanding, caring. He truly valued her friendship. She spoke with fear in her voice, as if she was asking Arthur to protect her from something. Merlin followed her eyes to the Tardis door and jumped in surprise, the steady flow of tears stifled by the sight of a crowd that had gathered between the time machine and the outside world. Completely blocking their only exit was a small army of clones, weapons held high.

There were all sorts; old men, women in business suits, a gym-junkie in tights, an apparent surgeon wearing a white robe... even a little girl was glaring at them with a vicious expression more appropriate for a wolf than a school student. Merlin thought he recognised the girl too, yes- she was Christy, the foreigner Gwen had befriended in Camelot. This was her clone.

"Christy?" Gwen obviously recognised her too, she let go of John -who leant against Sherlock- and began to walk towards her. Arthur held out an arm to stop her. The shock still showed on his face, but luckily the prince was keeping a clear mind.

"That's not her, she's still in Camelot."

"She's a clone," The detective explained, then he snarled at the others, "they all are."

The apparent leader of the squad, the surgeon, flicked his head over his shoulder. "You all come with us, quietly. The boss would like to see you, Doctor."

Merlin watched as the Timelord did exactly what he was told. He didn't speak, or give advice to his companions in the Tardis. He just sighed, dropped his arms to his sides, and casually entered the crowd of clones.

"Follow us." The surgeon now looked at each of the remaining time-travellers, one at a time, right in the eyes. Merlin thought only Gaius could have such an intimidating stare, but he was wrong. "And bring the Lady Morgana."

The spell which bound Morgana's body was beginning to wear off. She squirmed in protest like a worm pulled from the safety of its soil, leaving little puddles of blood on the floor around her knee. After a moment of murmurs and complaints, Sherlock led a shaky John out of the blue box. Gwen came next, and was followed by Merlin and Arthur, who shared the task of carrying the stiff, broken body of the witch. Merlin noticed that the prince wouldn't meet his eyes, and his heart ached again. Would his best friend ever forgive him? Should he expect him to?

The Tardis was left by the roadside to become an attraction for curious onlookers, as its passengers were led at zappy-gun-point down the lane. Merlin found little comfort in the strengthening smell of sugar, and as the pink building got closer and closer, he wondered what fate awaited them inside.