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"YOU, DEAR, CAN CALL ME MORGANA."

Albany's wand hand trembled, though she didn't dare lower it or avert her gaze. She would put on a brave face and fight if she had to, as much as she'd rather not. She wasn't about to give Morgana the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" she deadpanned, and found it in her to raise an eyebrow at the witch.

Morgana's laugh was chilling. "Oh, not to you," she assured the girl, smiling horribly. "Though I must say I'm surprised Merlin hasn't told you about me."

"Evidently he didn't think you important enough," Albany retorted drily. The sarcasm hid the wobble in her voice.

The smile dropped from Faith's face, her expression left lethally calm. Albany swallowed her disgust at how Morgana was using Faith's body like a sock puppet; Faith was no angel, but nobody deserved to be used like this.

"Or he thought he'd seen the end of me," Morgana suggested darkly, stepping forward. Her eyes continued to glow golden, and it left Albany on edge. "As you can see, he has not. So now I'll just deal with you, and that will be the end of his lineage."

"Woah, let's take a second, no-one has to die," Albany argued hastily, a sharp thorn of panic stabbing at her heart. She raised both her hands in the air defensively, despite what a horrible idea taking her wand off the woman seemed to be. Where the fuck is Merlin when I need him? "We can talk this out."

Morgana gave another cold laugh, and Albany's skin prickled. "Someone always has to die," she announced, a satisfied smirk creasing her face. "Merlin knows this better than anyone. Why don't you ask him what happened to your brother?"

Albany froze. Her heart dropped into her stomach, terrified of what the witch was implying. "What did you do to him?"

"Oh dear, I didn't do anything," Morgana assured her sweetly. "Tell me, do you know anything about your ancestor?"

Suddenly, Albany wasn't so sure she did. Her hands slowly fell to her sides, eyes wide and uncertain; if she was the direct descendant of Merlin, that made Evander the same, did it not? He'd disappeared to chase destiny - no, it couldn't be true - but it made sense; had Merlin had a hand in the death of her brother? Was she paving her own path to the same fate under his guidance?

The thought was devastating, yet it consumed her; so much so that she failed to notice the pounding on the door, or the cracking of sinks and pipes behind her.

"Do you trust me?"

Albany froze, face falling as Merlin's voice echoed in her head. She glanced up at Faith, horrified, but the possessed witch couldn't hear him.

"Albany, do you trust me?"

She wanted to, she realised, listening to the soft kindness in his voice, recalling the fondness his blue eyes regarded her with. He'd given her no reason not to. He had helped her with the dragon and with George, and respected her when she needed space. Yet she'd been about to take Morgana's word over his. A sorceress of old magic who had cursed George and influenced Faith - a liar. Distracting her. This time, she heard the pipes creaking behind her as they were manipulated with magic.

"Yes," she murmured, and Morgana narrowed her golden eyes at her. "I do."

"Then trust me to save you. You're not strong enough to take on Morgana yet."

Albany bit her cheek. Water was pooling around her ankles. She didn't know much about Morgana, but she emanated power; her old magic was well practiced. Merlin had a point. Albany wouldn't stand a chance.

"Okay."

Instantly, she felt her breath catch as a pleasant warmth enveloped her body. Magic was rushing in her veins and her heartbeat was pounding steady in her ears; she'd taken a backseat in her own mind, watching through her eyes like a spectator for a sports event. Her movements were surprising and unintended, her words spoken aloud yet not with her voice. There was another presence sharing her body, and it was simultaneously horribly intimate yet peacefully comfortable. It was Merlin, using her body the way Morgana was using Faith's; the difference was she trusted him, and he had asked.

Faith — Morgana — scowled, apparently recognising the wizard as he settled into Albany's form. She took a step back, widening her stance, and while Albany tensed, her body did not respond. Confusion and anxiety were running through her system, yet they mixed with Merlin's calm and reassurance, and she relaxed into his control.

"Long time no see, Merlin," Morgana drawled, flexing her fingers. Albany felt a jolt of alarm as the pipes whined behind her. Her socks were getting wet.

"Not long enough," Merlin quipped. "Couldn't stay dead?"

Morgana ran her tongue along her teeth. "Neither could you."

"I'm here for good reason."

"So am I." Morgana's eyes flashed a brighter shade of gold. "To get rid of you."

The sinks behind Albany broke free from the wall and pipes, flying towards her head. Albany went to duck, but Merlin's quicker reaction overruled her own, and he sent them crashing into the wall to his right with a flick of his wrist. Water was spewing from the broken pipes, slowly flooding the bathroom floor, and Albany cringed as her shoes squelched with each step. Morgana was in a rage, magically tearing out more and more sinks to fire at Merlin's — Albany's — head; the wizard didn't flinch, simply sending each one away in the direction it came from. He moved with grace and intention that Albany's body had never known, each step steady and sure.

"Too scared to fight back?" Morgana taunted, burning gaze flicking to the cubicles as she ripped a door from its hinges.

Albany felt her lips contort into a frown as Merlin made an expression of disappointment. "I'm not going to hurt a child," he responded calmly, and stopped the flying door in its tracks. It sent up a splash as it hit the floor.

"Oh, don't play the good guy with me," Morgana growled, fists clenching. "Was I not a child when you tried to kill me?! To poison me?! When I had done less to you than this child has done now?!"

"I did what I had to," Merlin argued quietly, though Albany's concern was growing again, her thoughts loud over his voice. "I had to save Camelot. If I could have done that without poisoning you, I would have."

"I'm not here for your excuses, not now," Morgana snarled, muscles trembling after exerting herself. "Stay out of my way."

"Or what?" Merlin challenged. "You'll hurt this child? Don't think yourself above me when you would do worse, Morgana."

Albany's thoughts were dizzying — was Merlin really daring Morgana to attack her? She was spiralling inside her own head, confused and afraid as she struggled to comprehend what was going on while sustaining Merlin's presence in her body. It was taking its toll on her; she understood now why Faith had been passing out after Morgana possessed her for long enough. The details of the world around her were going fuzzy at the edges.

"You're right," Morgana remarked, and Albany nearly missed her eyes darting upwards to the ceiling again. "I would do worse."

The ceiling groaned as it cracked and splintered, and Albany was hit with a horrible sense of déjà vu. Her vision was spotty and her knees struggling to hold the weight of her body — don't black out, not now — but even Merlin's presence was flickering in and out, and with neither of them in control, nobody could stop the ceiling from collapsing in on top of them.

Albany stared in horror at Faith, who was staring back at her with a similar expression. Except, on closer inspection, she wasn't looking at Albany's face, but over her shoulder; and then several things happened all at once.

Faith's eyes faded to their familiar icy blue, and she hit the floor with a splash. The ceiling collapsed. The door to the bathroom was thrown open as Albany's vision went dark. She heard a man's voice yelling, and she was out like a light before the rubble ever hit its mark.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When she opened her eyes again, it felt like no time had passed at all. Yet she didn't stand in the bathroom on the second floor, and her shoes were not wet. Instead, she was lying on a bed of rough cotton, dressed in her school robes with the exception of the unfamiliar patterned socks on her feet. Bemused, she sat up to examine her surroundings, and identified the Hospital Wing without any difficulty, though that answered none of her questions.

At the end of her bed stood Merlin and Arthur, speaking in hushed tones with solemn expressions. They hadn't noticed Albany's confused gaze on them, and before she could open her mouth to grab their attention, her eyes landed on a far more surprising sight.

Reading away to himself in a chair at her bedside was Albus Dumbledore. His calm eyes danced from side to side behind half-moon glasses as he read contentedly.

Albany stared blankly at him. She glanced around the long room, confused; surely he wasn't here for her, was he? Yet most of the other beds were unoccupied, and he sat too close to her own bed to be waiting for anyone else. Faith was asleep in a bed on the other side of the room. She bit her cheek, already struggling to recall what had just occurred before she had woken up.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she called hesitantly, and the man glanced up, smiling pleasantly.

"Ah, Miss Bronwen," he greeted her cheerfully, gently closing his book and setting it to the side. It looked vaguely familiar, and Albany wondered where she had seen it before. "I hope you don't mind, but I sent your friends away to bed. They're very eager to see you. I think you gave them quite the fright."

Albany blinked, and as she went to respond, she realised how dry her throat was. Merlin and Arthur had ceased their conversation upon noting her presence, and the former gave her a small, apologetic smile. She wasn't sure what to do in response, and glanced back to Dumbledore.

"That's okay," she croaked.

"Water?" the Headmaster offered, gesturing to a plastic cup on the bedside table.

Albany took it gingerly. Her throat felt raspy.

"You see, I wanted to have a little chat with you alone," Dumbledore explained, leaning forward. "I'm sure you've seen the lovely article that was published about you in the paper a few weeks ago."

"Yeah," Albany responded, and bit her cheek as she tried to remember what had gone down in the bathroom. "Um, Professor, what happened—?"

Dumbledore's lips pursed into a tight smile. Albany frowned. "I'm afraid you and Miss Moran might have had a small spat," he explained, as though there was humour to be found in the situation. "Myrtle wasn't too happy to find her bathroom had been destroyed a second time."

Albany blinked, gaze drifting as she began to recall the earlier events. Morgana and Merlin's fight — the ceiling—

Dumbledore continued before she could say a word. "I believe I found you right on time," he mused. "Ceilings can be such dangerous things. Perhaps we should remove them from the school."

Albany raised an eyebrow at him. Dumbledore didn't pay her any mind.

"You have both Misters Weasley to thank," he continued, smiling. "They found Myrtle in an old classroom, and naturally, went straight to the bathroom. Though saying it aloud, I'd wager they would not have brought the situation to my attention had the door not been locked."

"Oh," Albany whispered.

Dumbledore smiled gently at her. "Everything has been brought back to normal, fortunately. The bathroom has been restored again, and Myrtle is back to her old haunt."

Albany glanced momentarily to where Faith lay resting. She looked back to Dumbledore, biting her cheek. "Er... is that all you wanted to talk to me about, Professor?"

Her crossed fingers offered her no luck, and the bearded man shook his head.

"I do have a few questions for you, if that's quite alright," Dumbledore said. "Of course, you're under no obligation to be honest, though it would be appreciated if you were."

Albany sighed. Merlin's eyes hadn't left her since he'd noticed she was awake, yet she was nervous to meet his gaze. She wasn't sure why.

"Do you trust me?"

She wanted to, but Morgana was right. There was so much about him she didn't know.

"What do you want to know?" she asked Dumbledore, gaze low.

"Rita Skeeter truly has a way with words," Dumbledore remarked casually, which didn't really make sense after Albany's question, but she just let the old man carry on. "See, she possesses this extraordinary talent to convince many intelligent wizards of the most absurd notions. Believe me, I myself have fallen victim to a number of intriguing yet completely nonsensical articles." His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles as he smiled. "What I'm saying is I don't believe any of the tall tales she told about you."

Albany nodded, not sure if she preferred it that way. She didn't particularly want to disclose her heritage to anyone else, no matter how trustworthy Dumbledore seemed to be.

"Then Professor Moody lent me a most curious book the other day," Dumbledore continued. His voice was gentle and soothing, though Albany's nerves were running high despite it. "I thought it was quite boring in comparison to the likes of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and then I was informed it was a nonfiction work."

Albany frowned, not sure the professor was taking her seriously. The Tales of Beedle the Bard was a children's book; she'd fallen asleep to the magical stories it told on countless occasions in her youth.

Dumbledore picked up Moody's book again, leafing through the pages leisurely. That's where Albany recognised it from, she realised — it was the one Carly and Moody had been reading when she'd burst in on them that time. She cringed at the memory.

"See, it discusses some interesting topics," Dumbledore was saying, and Albany hastily tuned in again. "One in particular caught my eye. Old magic."

Albany froze. She glanced to Merlin and Arthur, who were remaining eerily silent, before turning back to Dumbledore and forcing herself to relax. Unfortunately, her reaction hadn't gone unnoticed by the elderly wizard.

"I must say, some things do line up with the article Skeeter published," Dumbledore mused, watching her carefully. "So while I don't believe her words, I crafted some theories of my own."

Albany remained silent, fiddling with the cotton sheets under Dumbledore's gaze. He continued after a moment of observation.

"I find it most intriguing, how so many wizarding families would shout their heritage to the hills in the name of pure blood," he remarked, "yet the Bronwens never did."

Albany was startled into meeting his gaze. He was staring at her curiously.

"Miss Bronwen, I wonder are you aware that your family is said to be descended directly from Merlin himself?"

She bit her cheek hard, and forced her eyes to widen at his words. "I — um, wow — that's, uh, that's news to me — are you sure?" She coughed, glancing briefly to Merlin. The ghost raised an eyebrow at her; apparently her acting was substandard.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly. Nothing got past the old man.

"I had to do some digging to discover that little bit of information," he admitted, smiling in good humour. "I thought it might interest you."

Albany sipped her water nervously. "Yeah," she answered vaguely, feeling rather stupid.

Dumbledore's piercing gaze was relentless. "Though now, I have an inkling that you have previously been made aware of this. Perhaps I was not looking for answers in waiting for you to awake... only confirmation."

"Right," Albany agreed, chewing hard on the inside of her cheek.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her. "It's been several hours since you collapsed in the bathroom," he informed her, and finally stood from his chair, straightening his robes. "You can spend the night here if you wish, though I'm sure you would prefer your own bed and more comfortable clothes."

"Yeah...." Albany frowned, the cotton sheets bunching up in her fists. She glanced up at the Headmaster worriedly. "Um... Professor? What are you going to do?"

Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle. "To you? Nothing, Miss Bronwen. Though, I would advise you refrain from tearing apart any more bathrooms."

Albany blinked, eyes furrowing in confusion. "Nothing? But...." She trailed off, unsure of what she was even trying to say.

"If you want someone to confide in, I'm sure any of your professors would be more than happy to discuss things with you," Dumbledore suggested with a soft smile. "Professor Moody in particular has an interest in the topic. I know he looks a tad bit intimidating, but I assure you, he means well. He spoke with Miss Moran earlier." He winked at her, and then turned to leave. "Sleep well, Miss Bronwen. And you can keep the socks."

Albany swallowed, wiggling her toes in the knitted material. "Um... yeah. Thanks...."

Dumbledore nodded, smiled, and left the room. Albany fell back against a thin pillow, releasing a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. Did he know? If so, how much? What the hell was going on?

Faith was fast asleep in her bed against the opposite wall, the thin sheets pulled right up over her body. Albany supposed that meant the girl was sleeping in the Hospital Wing for the night; and given they would be sharing a dorm the rest of the year, Albany supposed she should take advantage of the chance to sleep in separate rooms. Staying in close quarters with a former friend who had now twice been possessed and nearly killed her was, to say the least, uncomfortable.

Merlin and Arthur followed her as she wandered through the quiet corridors of the castle. It was dark outside, and she supposed it was past curfew, so didn't take any detours in fear of having to deal with Filch. The two ghosts had resumed their earlier conversation, and she frowned, only picking up a few words from where she walked a few paces ahead. Her mind was in turmoil, a thousand unanswered questions and doubts swimming in the overwhelming flood of her thoughts.

"Merlin?" she called after a moment, voice still raspy in her throat.

The ghost sped up to float at her side in an instant. "Yes?"

Albany bit her cheek hard, eyebrows knitting together as she stared at the ground. "What... what happened to Evander?"

Merlin was quiet. Fearing the worst, Albany glanced sideways to him; his expression was solemn and gaze lowered.

"I don't know what happened to your brother, Albany," he admitted softly. "I really don't. I promise."

Albany nodded, letting her gaze fall again. Her steps echoed against the stone walls, shadows flickering in the passing light of torches.

"Don't let Morgana get into your head," Arthur said, joining them so the three walked all together. "She's already in Faith's."

Albany frowned, glancing at the blond. "Who is Morgana? Why does she want me dead?"

"I don't think it's anything personal," Merlin murmured. "It's me she wants out of the way. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Albany swallowed, gaze cast downward.

"Morgana is my half sister," Arthur explained, face grim. "Our father lied to her about her true parents. She thought she was simply his ward, not his daughter." He frowned. "So did I."

"She started showing signs of magic a while after I arrived in Camelot," Merlin continued. "Uther — Arthur's father — hated magic. It was strictly forbidden in the kingdom, punishable by death."

"That's a bit much," Albany remarked, grimacing. She couldn't imagine having to hide her magic — and just because the king didn't like it? How many innocent witches and wizards had lost their lives?

Arthur wasn't entirely meeting her gaze. "He blamed magic for the death of my mother," he murmured. The muscles in his face were tight. "I was raised to hate magic as much as he did. And for a long time, I did — even Merlin didn't tell me he had magic until I was on my deathbed."

While Arthur gave a lighthearted chuckle at the remark, Merlin's expression grew heavier.

"Morgana hated Uther for his rules against magic," Merlin explained. "She wanted him dead. Arthur and I defended him... so we became her enemies too."

"After my father died, things just got worse," Arthur said, frowning again; the memories were evidently painful. "I wish more than anything that she would have given us a second chance — if I could go back and try change her mind, before Morgause corrupted her—"

"Morgause?"

"Morgana's half sister," Merlin replied. "Not Arthur's sister. She shared the same mother as Morgana, while Morgana and Arthur shared the same father."

"This is a complicated family tree," Albany groaned.

"Tell me about it," Arthur grumbled. "Thought we'd seen the last of them."

"So Faith... she's Morgana's descendant, then," Albany figured, glancing to Merlin.

"Not possible," the wizard shot back immediately. Albany's eyes widened, a little startled by the response. He shook his head, glancing to Arthur. "There's no way.... but there's no other way Morgana could have so much control over her."

Albany shot him a look. "So she is Morgana's descendant."

"That's impossible," Merlin said, firmer this time.

Albany rolled her eyes. "How do you know that for sure?!"

Merlin looked seriously uncomfortable, and when Albany turned on Arthur, even he was unusually quiet. She huffed, folding her arms and picking up the pace. There was always something else she couldn't know about them.

"There are things we'll tell you in time," Merlin said after a moment, hurrying after her. "You're not ready yet. Just trust us."

Albany sighed, hugging herself tight as she descended the steps into the dungeons.

"Do you trust me?"

It was getting harder and harder to do with every passing moment.

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❃ a/n:

new longest chapter check!!

okay first of all, huge thank you to adharyn for hosting the seeker awards, they were fantastic to participate in and judge for ♡ i am over the moon to say that lionheart won first place in the golden trio era category — i am insanely proud, and honestly i can barely believe it but thank you so much everyone for all your support ♡♡♡

secondly!! the playlist for lionheart is now up on spotify and public for you all to listen to!! it has about 40 songs at the moment, all of which i personally think are pretty fucking good if i say so myself lmaooo

just screenshot the pic below and scan it in the spotify app, or click the link in my bio! thank you guys so much for everything ♡

- A x