Nimueh was furious. Merlin had made a fool of her in the Six Swans Story. At least one of her men had managed to salvage some semblance of victory by murdering the Guardian brother, but she would have preferred to finish it there. Now she had to get rid of him before sending another of her men to kill Elisa. It was all very annoying.

However, standing in the anteroom outside of the King of this Story's meeting room, Nimueh composed her features. Bewitching was the easiest spell for her. At one point in her own Story, she had even bewitched Merlin. She was reserving that as a last-resort. For all she knew, he could have shored up his mental defenses since that incident, and it tended not to end well for anyone.

The King's assistant emerged. "You may see the King now," he told her.

Hastily, Nimueh concealed her annoyance at being kept waiting for twenty minutes. Every second that she was delayed was another second Merlin could figure out what she was up to. Sooner or later, she needed to put him with the rest of her prisoners. Hopefully her latest plan would allow her to do so. Silently, she follow the man into the King's meeting room. It was a plain room, with only a table littered with papers as its furnishing. The King stood at the table, his head bowed, his dark brown hair floating over his eyes. He looked up when she came in. Nimueh was a tall woman, but King George seemed to dwarf her. "Milady Morgana le Fay Emrys!" he said, moving forward and clasping her hand. Apparently, Morgana, foolish woman that she was, had become something of a hero after marrying Merlin. "Welcome to my kingdom. I apologize for the wait; there have been some ... ill-tidings that I had to take care of. Please, would you like something to eat or drink? Would you like a seat? I can have my man fetch one, if you'd like."

"No, thank you," Nimueh said sweetly. "I'm well taken care of. Tell me, Saint George. What are your thoughts on witchcraft?"

The legendary dragon-slayer looked at her, his eyes narrowing a little. She would have to be careful. He was clearly a sharp individual. "I tolerate sorcery. A wizard helped me slay the dragon. But witchcraft and consorting with dark powers? I do not approve of it."

"Mm, I thought as much," Nimueh said. Care and caution would have to be exacted during her plan. "It's disturbing that such things are allowed to run rampant throughout The Story, isn't it? The cruelty that is witchcraft should be eliminated."

For a moment, the King considered her, his brown eyes expressionless. Quicker than her eyes could follow, George lunged forward, wrapping hand around her wrist as he dragged her toward him. His sword rested against Nimueh's neck. "I agree," he said. "You aren't Morgana ... are you?"

"Very astute," Nimueh complimented him, running her hand through his hair flirtatiously. George flinched away, visibly uncomfortable at the close quarters. "I am Nimueh, destined for the throne of Camelot."

"You are destined for nothing," George snarled, and went to dig the blade into her skin. Before he could react, Nimueh's hand went from his hair to his forehead, gripping it and initiating the sleep spell she'd used on Morph. It was even easier on the magicless King, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Kneeling beside him, Nimueh danced her fingers above the back of his head, casting an enchantment over her.

A voice from above her failed to instill the surprise it had intended. "You have quite the effect on men, don't you?"

Nimueh looked up at the little imp shapeshifter that stood there. "Rumpelstiltskin," she said. "What are you doing here? I don't like it when my orders are ignored, dear."

"I like to make sure I fully understand your orders, dear," he replied. Before her eyes, he gained height and became an attractive young man in his late twenties. His black hair touched his shoulders. The only thing that remained from his imp persona were his dark grey eyes. "Which one do you want?"

Nimueh considered the question, pursing her lips. "I think ... the bard. Lana."

"Any reason?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, a smirk lurking on his face.

Nimueh stretched her fingers before continuing the spell. George was unusually resilient against the bewitching spell. "Merlin feels that he failed her father when he allowed him to sacrifice himself to save Merlin," she explained. "The poor dear. All that guilt. If I kidnap Alan's daughter and threaten her with the witchcraft test ... well, he'll feel duty-bound to save her, more so than his own sons. If he fails two members of that family, he'll never be able to forgive himself." Her mouth twisted in a smile. "And nothing will please me more."

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, looking pleased. As he turned to go, Nimueh stopped him. "Wait." He turned and looked at her, a thin eyebrow raising to his hairline. "I need you to go and remove Ewan Andric's son from the cell I've placed him in. Take him to our allies in the giants' Story and give him to them, as a gift."

That really made Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrow shoot up. "Any reason why?" he asked.

"He woke Lana from the coma I sent her into," Nimueh answered in disgust. "I know it was him. There's no one else powerful enough to have overridden it, at least in sleep magic terms. I'd rather see him in a giant's dinner than interfering in my plans again. Now get going."

Rumpelstiltskin bowed, that peculiar expression still on his face. "I can only hope that I don't end up on the wrong side of your anger," he said before ducking out of the room.

Nimueh smirked to herself before leaning down and whispering to the unconscious George, "Fear is such a powerful weapon. Keep them afraid and they'll never raise anything against you." Then she continued casting her spell over him.

. . . . . . . . . .

The first thing Eve noticed about the Story they found themselves in was that it was burnt. The ground was dried and cracked beneath their feet, and the surrounding forest had no leaves. The trees' bark was blackened and charred. Emrys raised an eyebrow. "This is quite the place," he commented.

"It's Saint George's Story," Merlin answered.

"Is he really a saint?" Rampion asked.

Merlin shook his head. "No. The people called him a saint when he slew the dragon tormenting the countryside, but he only calls himself a King. Supposedly, he's a very God-fearing man and is horrified when anyone calls him a saint. Shall we find out?"

"W-wait. A dragon?" Eve looked around, her eyes going wide as she realized that the destruction around her had been caused by a mythological being of immense power. Her logical mind argued that there were no such things as dragons, but then, her logical mind only two days before had also said there was no such thing as sorcerers. And now she was in the company of two of them!

"It's dead," Merlin said casually. "There's nothing to worry about. Come on, my friends. Let's go see the King, shall we?"

The group followed Merlin as he led them through the burned forest. It was eerily quiet and devoid of any sort of life. The wind didn't even seem to blow through the dead twigs or stir the stubbly, brown and black grass. Eve didn't feel entirely comfortable, and even the normally-irrepressible Lana was quiet. The only sounds were their footsteps echoing on the crispy ground beneath their feet.

After what felt like ages, Eve saw a castle looming in the distance. They still had a while left to go when Merlin raised his hand cautiously, a frown on his face. "Wait here," he told them. "Something's not quite right."

That was a little disturbing, particularly when he moved off and left them standing there. "Wait!" Eve cried, her nerves making her voice crack. She swallowed past the lump in her throat when Merlin made no response.

Emrys looked stricken. "Where could he be going, do you think?" he asked. His voice sounded unusually high-pitched.

Eve shook her head in bemusement. Any further expressions of their nerves at being left behind by Merlin were interrupted when Lana said, "Do you hear that?"

They all fell silent. Gwaine crinkled his brow. "Lana, it's just the wind through the trees." He took a pace toward her before stopping, evidently confused and maybe a little worried as well.

"No, it's not," Lana insisted. "It's a lute, I can hear it. Do you think it's my papa?"

"No," Emrys said flatly. "It's not. Stay here until Father gets back. He'll tell you the same thing. Don't go wandering off." There was an unmistakable pleading sound to his words. The last thing they needed was for Lana to wander off and get herself lost.

But the bard was entranced, her innocent face drawn in a worried expression. "But what if I'm missing Papa? He'd be so sad to miss a chance at seeing me again."

Eve looked at Emrys and mouthed, "Again?" The sorcerer shrugged, looking miserable. Eve took control, laying a soothing hand on Lana's arm. "I know you want to believe it's your father there, but if it is, why hasn't he come to see you instead of standing there?"

"He's shy!" she said, and started running.

"A bard, shy?" Gwaine said, scratching his head in confusion.

Rampion looked ill. "It's Nimueh, I'm sure of it!" she cried. "We've got to stop her."

"Oh, that's bad," Emrys decided. They ran after Lana, but she had a head-start on them and she'd always been a quick runner. After ten minutes, Emrys stopped them, panting, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Where could she have gone to so quickly on her own?" he moaned.

"She didn't go off alone." Eve's voice was low and upset. The others turned and watched as she knelt on the ground and picked up a crushed lute. Lana's lute. "Somebody took her."

. . . . . . . . . .

With King George firmly under her spell, Nimueh left him in his room and reported to the guard outside that he'd been mysteriously overcome with an illness. The simple guard was incredibly easy to adjust his mind with her magic, and he believed her completely. Satisfied with her work, she gave George a little nudge to call her when he woke up—he wouldn't wake up until she told him to—before going to the room she'd been given in his castle. To her surprise, she found Rumpelstiltskin there. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He gave her a smile, still in his young man persona. "I brought you what you wanted," he said. She noticed with disgust his crooked and filthy teeth.

When his words sank in, a delighted smile spread across Nimueh's face. "Oh, you devil," she said. "Where is she?"

Rumpelstiltskin stepped aside, motioning to the unconscious girl on Nimueh's bed. The smile on her face widened when she saw the red hair covering the girl's face. "You did it, and in quick order too!" she said in delight. "Oh, I am pleased, Rumple, my dear. Very, very pleased."

Lana's hands were bound behind her back, and her wrists as well. Nimueh tapped her finger against her lips before activating the spell to wake up George. "It's time to put my plan into action," she said. "Now go, deal with Morph, if you'd be so kind."

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. "Very well." He morphed back into his imp form before disappearing from sight.

Nimueh hauled Lana to her feet by her arm. The girl was as limp as a rag doll, but even Nimueh had to think that the resemblance between her and Alan-a-Dale was uncanny. That would just make it all the more painful for Merlin, she thought gleefully. She pulled Lana through the hallways with her and ran into a disgruntled servant. "Milady Morgana," he said. Inwardly, she smirked; taking on the guise of the woman she used to serve was proving to be highly effective. "King George would like to see you. Erm ... who is that?"

"A witch who planned on killing King George," Nimueh said, effecting a disgusted look. "She's extremely dangerous."

"But she only looks like a child," the servant protested. "Surely she can't be that dangerous?"

Nimueh sighed at the imbecile. "That's why she's so dangerous," she answered patiently. "Now move out of my way so I can take the prisoner to the King."

The man moved from her path and she continued on her way. By that time, Lana had regained consciousness enough to realize that all was not right. As she started to struggle in an effort to escape from Nimueh's grasp, Nimueh hissed in her ear, "If you struggle, girl, I'll make you suffer as you've never suffered before."

The girl's dark eyes went wide and a stubborn look overcame her face. Before she could get too rebellious, Nimueh cast a spell to heat up her hand wrapped around Lana's arm. She seared the bard's flesh, and she cried out in pain through the gag. Her point across, Nimueh ended the spell and continued dragging her around.

They reached King George's room and Nimueh entered without knocking. The man looked at her, his expression blank. She allowed herself a brief smile before sending Lana sprawling into the room with a shove. "Here's a witch for you," she said. She really didn't even have to say anything. George was entirely under her power. "And what is the usual punishment for such creatures?"

"There is no proof that she's a witch," George answered, and anger smarted out Nimueh's triumph. Even under her power, even helpless under her spell, he still managed to resist her and try and take away what she wanted!

Hiding her anger from the bard, Nimueh said smoothly, "Then it shall be the witch's trial for her. If she drowns, she's innocent. And if she survives ... she shall be beheaded by the laws of your kingdom."