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Iridean Dreams
Part 2.
“That will be close enough.” The three knights paused at the entrance to the grove as his quiet voice let them know they had been noticed. The horses held at the reins as Merlin walked forwards and reached up to pat the forehead of the first beast, who leaned in to his touch. He continued scratching at the nose and then leaned his forehead down to touch with the horse’s, who gently nickered at him in greeting.
“Why are you here?” He didn’t look at any of them, but all three could feel a sudden change in the air, and raised their hands in recognition and to show they were holding no weapons. The feeling went away, and all three shared glances.
“Sigan’s Hall shows smoke in the forest. These forests have hid those with magic for years. It was something of a concern.” The first knight lowered her hood and gestured for the others to do the same. Merlin raised his head and inclined it to the side. The first knight to the left was beyond enormous, thick and broad shouldered with scarred, burnt hands and a mace hooked to his saddle. Thick armour plating across the backs of his hands gave the half-gauntlets he wore the sense of being too small for his largeness. His skin was dirty but pale, as though he spent far too much time inside. To the right was a man of intense ferretness, looking for all the world like one of the creatures made to a man. He wore a strip of glass across his eyes that sat on the bride of his long, pointed nose. His skin was patched and discoloured, but his eyes behind the glass were kind and crinkled at the edges with laugh lines. The woman in front of him was obviously the one in charge of the three. She bore herself like a noblewoman. She wore her long white hair down low in a warrior’s braid, but she was still quite young, younger even than Morgana by a year or two. There was a strength to her bearing. And anger and resentment and pain to her eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had lost that most precious thing in one’s own life. Her innocence. It was a look he was all too familiar with from the sorceress who slept above him.
“Who are you?” He shrugged at her question and jerked his chin towards them.
“Magic users, like you. On the run from Camelot.” He didn’t let on how many of them there were, thinking it best to entertain the idea that his forces might outnumber their own, but the woman looked up to Morgana’s window and then fell silent in thought. After a moment, she reached down to her saddlebags and threw him a skin of water and nodded to the skinny man on her left.
“Hèlend. Tarellen’s horse will do our kin more good than us.” Hèlend dismounted and untied the reins of the horse behind him from his owns saddle, then led it slightly forward to Merlin. The young Warlock nodded his thanks before he turned back to the woman, who tilted her head to her right, indicating the giant behind her.
“Scúr, late of Lot’s armoury. I am Fægernes, Swordmaiden of the Knights of Tauren.” The name sent chills through Merlin, who bowed his head to cover the shock of recognition that ran through him. Dead by his own and Morgana’s hands, Tauren had apparently not left his cause unchampioned.
“Mer…Myrddin & Meredith, late of Camelot.” Fearing their real names might be too recognizable, though Morgana’s more than his, the names rolled off Merlin’s tongue and Fægernes nodded, though her eyes didn’t leave Merlin’s face.
“Myrddin… an ancient name.”
“I’m old fashioned, like that. I have nothing to give you in return for your gift,” he apologised, bowing low. Fægernes stared at him for a moment longer, then reached an obviously internal decision.
“Then I will take what I need. This forest is wide and deep, and scattered without are many who could use one another’s help, protection from the elements. I would have thought Sigan’s retreat to be almost in ruins, but it seems to stand. I ask that the people I send you be given a roof that doesn’t leak and a place by your fire until something more permanent can be arranged. The forces of the seven kingdoms seem arrayed against those of us with magic once more. The Lady Morgana has escaped from Camelot, killing the Sarram of Amata.” Merlin let his eyes widen, and effected a shocked look.
“The Sarram was a fearsome tyrant to those with magic.” Fægernes nodded, waving her hand.
“The world at large is well rid of one such as that. It is the Lady Morgana that interests me.” Merlin bowed again.
“I’ve never met her, but if I do, I shall repay your kindness to us and speak to her of your name.”
“You are late of Camelot. Surely the word of such an escape would have reached you.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You don’t talk to many people when you’re trying to avoid them. We were more interested in leaving. It was made much more difficult by the guards surrounding, but I expect they were looking for an all-powerful sorceress, not a husband and wife simply going about their business.”
“A clever ruse on your behalf then, Myrddin.” He inclined his head to her again. “Do you know what the Lady Morgana looks like?”
“Beautiful beyond comprehension. Hair as dark as night’s own silk, skin as pale as morning milk and pale jade eyes.”
“Such poetic descriptions for her. You’re sure to notice her now, though you’ve never before met. However, I’ve heard her eyes are her most striking feature.” Merlin stared up at her for a moment, then smiled disarmingly as he petted the horse beside him.
“And what of yourself, my lady? Fægernes too is an ancient name, and you hardly look that. Might I ask what you yourself seek the Lady Morgana for? Her eyes are no doubt as striking as her tendency for violence. She is a dangerous woman, so I’m told. As you say, she slew the Sarram of Amata.” She gave him a low smile and her dark brown eyes glinted at him in amusement.
“Yes, I’d heard she was accustomed to murder, has been for quite some time. Merely wanted to make her acquaintance. It’s hardly fitting to two women of noble station to pass one another like owls in the night and speak nothing to one another.” Merlin let go of the horse’s reins and then crossed his arms, staring at her. He held her gaze for several heartbeats, until both Hèlend and Scúr shifted uncomfortably. Fægernes grew a slow smile as she stared at Merlin. There was a power there, he saw, but at the same time, there was something else, too, something dark and intoxicating.
“They say that madness begins with a single wrong decision, my lady. I hope that this is not the case.” She threw back her head and laughed. “Your father’s death was horrific, but with everything that Morgana has done for the good of those with magic, perhaps a different light needs to be shed upon it.”
Fægernes’ laugh ended abruptly and she drew a dagger. Merlin did not attack, but lowered his arms in readiness.
“She killed my father, betrayed him and murdered him when Uther was at his most vulnerable and in doing so, robbed the people of Camelot the chance for a king not poisoned by hatred of magic.” Merlin tilted his head and the considered this, as the words were not spoken with the rile and venom that he could have expected. Even understood. They were spoken as if she were offering a simple counterpoint to his words, not speaking of the death of her father.
“Uther’s death brought that, and here we are, still in hiding, Lady Fægernes. Perhaps your father was wrong.” His respectful tone was answered with another shrug.
“Tauren was wrong. Of that I have no doubt. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have been happy spending more time with him.” Merlin nodded slowly.
“As would Queen Guinevere have.” Fægernes’ eyes narrowed and she straightened in her saddle.
“Explain.”
“Tauren’s mechanisations condemned the blacksmith that was working with him to death. The blacksmith, Tom, was Guinevere’s father. And Morgana’s anger towards Tauren for it was eclipsed only in her hatred for Uther. But Morgana had long been without a father, having only Uther. When Uther admitted his love for her, it threw her, and she defended him. A love for a father, as you can imagine, is a powerful motivator.” Fægernes smoothed her front, checking her armour and holding the black robe about her. For several minutes her hot cheeks flamed, until finally her temper held check and she again appraised Merlin.
“If what you say is true, then my father bought about Camelot’s greatest enemy with his life. For surely the guilt would weigh upon her for the rest of her days for such a poor betrayal.” Merlin didn’t blink but nodded slowly.
“Surely such guilt is a just punishment. And on a cold note, better a knife in the back than burning at the stake.” All three knights nodded at that, though Fægernes’s much slower.
“You’re an interesting one, Myrddin.” He bowed low and then her gaze again went up to Morgana’s room. The dark eyes and powerfully regal face stayed still for a moment, until she nodded to herself again. “In the pack you’ll find two clothes, a spare for Hèlend and another for myself. Hopefully they will see you well until next we meet. I would like to discuss more with you, if you’ve the time given our return?” Again Merlin bowed. “In the meantime, my hopes that your lady regains her strength. And remember our deal, Myrddin. If there are others about, I ask only that you show them the courtesy you have extended to yourselves here of hospice.” Merlin grinned and nodded to the wide open area behind him.
“There’s room enough for that, of course. And I’d like to know more about the Knights of Tauren, also.” She nodded once and then turned her horse, clicking her tongue and moving out to the trees back into the forest, taking her knights with her. Scúr raised a thick hand in farewell as they disappeared, and Merlin looked back up towards the tower holding Morgana’s room. A flash of dark hair caught the sunlight of it’s shine, and he smiled to himself then clicked his tongue at their new horse. The animal nickered softly and he led it to the small stable and removed it’s saddle and pack, then put the water and bread into the pack and shouldered it, heading across to the main area from the stables and running up the stairs to Morgana.
* * * * *
The fire popped and broke him from his reverie slowly, unable to break his eyes from her; the figure in the flames. Her eyes were as ever, piercing and green, though over the centuries, they’d lost much of their accusatory sharpness. This was not the woman of his recent memories, this was a vastly different Morgana Pendragon.
“Why have you summoned me, Emrys?” He zipped up his coat as he stared at her, then at the forest around them. The shadows should have made him feel uneasy, but he had lived far too long for that. Merlin sighed and straightened up, bringing his gnarled hands in front of him and taking off the gloves, blowing on his knuckles as he considered.
“Why does a man wish to see any woman, Morgana? I performed no spell.” He waved a hand at her and then looked as she formed solidly from the flames. Her being was bright and looked as though seen through a red light, but her eyes were the same pale jade. How he’d missed the way they smiled with her lips. Merlin shook his head.
“Nonetheless, Emrys, your magic has summoned me. That much I can tell, still.” He laid the bottle down beside him and looked down at himself, then uncrossed his long, thin legs and stretched them out to the fire. “You summon me because you’re lonesome? Where’s your precious master, Emrys, who would bring magic back to the land?”
“He’s dead.” The bottle was empty, but Merlin searched for another. Morgana’s jade eyes flickered over the strewn bottles and at Merlin’s unkempt form.
“Arthur’s been dead for a thousand years or more. Merlin…Are you drunk?”
“Alcohol has changed a lot in that time, Morgana. I wish you could have seen how much. Arthur wasn’t dead. He was kept. Avalon has held his living soul for the passing of the sun and moons since the day you died.”
“Since the day you killed me.”
“Yes, and now he’s dead. I was wrong. I failed. And you were right.” In the fire, the shade looked at the broken mage before her, immortal and forced to face those facts for the rest of existence. Her coldness stopped for a moment as she considered what that must be like. At least between the summons that he periodically brought her to him, she slept in the darkness, warm and still.
“Tell me more. How do you know he’s dead?”
“The light has left. There was always a sense of Arthur’s promise, a shining light that was yet to be unveiled. And now that light has gone out. Arthur, for whatever reason, is dead. Perhaps the magic that held Avalon has faded, cutting it off from us forever. I have tried to get there, but have failed, as I failed at everything else.” There was a darkness to him that had never been there before, the High Priestess thought. This was a different Merlin, an old man, surely, and Emrys, of course. But he was Arthur’s man no longer.
“Arthur was destined, as were you and I, Morgana, to play roles that fate had written for us so long ago. We played them out, with nary a thought for ourselves, but merely to play the role which had been assigned to us. Would that things were different.” He reached out to her and she felt the powerful tug of his magic, filling her still now after all these years, his powerful magic still there, still responsive. His eyes glowed as he stared at her.
“You and I, Morgana, are a different coin entirely. Arthur needed me, but I needed you. And I never stopped for a moment to think that you needed me. I could have helped, had I not been so enamoured of my own fears. So I’m going to do that now. I’m going to give us another chance, Morgana. A chance to fulfil what Arthur never did. His destiny. We’re going to bring magic back to the world, so that it walks a different path. We’re going to change things.” Morgana walked out of the flames and into the smoke, standing in front of him and helping him rise to his feet. Merlin smiled and began to change, straightening and rising to his full height, his hair thickening and darkening, even as his long beard did the same, until the boyish face was before her again, and he stretched. He reached out and took her hand, reaching into the flames with an open palm and touching her chest, above her heart. Morgana gasped as he flinched, then drew the fire into himself. They stayed like that for a moment, then Morgana saw a rushing skyline, racing through her mind as though she was on a river, flying through the clouds.
“We’re joining, darkness and light, my light to your darkness, one and the same. We’re going to fulfil the destiny, Morgana. We’re going to change everything.”
* * * * *
Morgana woke slowly, not with the rush of pain and fear that her prophetic dreams normally carried, but slowly and feeling the sun on her body. It just crested the base of her window and warmed her slightly, under the covers. She breathed out and saw the frost on her bed sheet, but couldn’t fault the open window. Having been imprisoned as she had, open windows were something she didn’t ever want to give up again.
Breathing deeply, she rose and dressed herself, washing in the basin of clean water that Merlin had set before the fire last night for her, the overly warm water feeling good in the cold. Once she was dressed, Morgana moved to the window again and closed her eyes against the sunlight’s glare, and looked down into the courtyard. Though still quite dark against the brightening morning, there were four people in the courtyard, one being Merlin, the other three she didn’t know, but they seemed to be knights. She reached down for the crossbow that she’d put beside the window but the knights below touched their hearts to Merlin and then rode off as he led a horse laden with a pack back to the bottom of the keep and around to the stables. It took a few minutes for him to scale the four floors before knocking softly on her door. She opened it to him and he eyed the crossbow which she quickly replaced by the open window. He grinned at her and scratched his head with his free hand.
“Planning on going hunting dressed like that?” She wore only the dress that had dried by the fire last night, having been cleaned before she slept. Merlin fared little better, his blue shirt dirty and marred by their escape. Morgana took a deep breath and then glared at him. Merlin ducked his head and pursed his lips, which distracted her long enough for him to set the pack on her bed and open it. He brought out two thick, plain black cloaks and thin hoods, as well as some leather breeches and clean cotton shirts.
“Who were those men?” Merlin put a small screen up and turned his back to give her privacy, then began to explain as he stripped down also.
“The Knights of Tauren.” He was silent for a moment as she remembered Tauren and what had very nearly happened that day in the forest. With everything that had gone on since, Morgana wished that she’d had the courage to strike Uther down that day, perhaps changing the course of fate and history in the process. Perhaps things had turned out the way that they had simply because people had failed to act in their moment of chance. And she wasn’t the only one. Her mind wandered back to her dream earlier, of Merlin and her, far far distant from now, talking of things past. Her head began to hurt simply at the complexity of it all.
“And it wasn’t just men. Two men and a woman. All of them with magic. All of them warriors, it seemed. Tauren’s daughter was the woman.” He fought with the leather breeches and tied them on awkwardly, given that they were perhaps a size bigger than he was. Merlin’s waist was smaller, but his hips bigger. They sat low, and he felt quite embarrassed as he fought to hitch them up over his hip bones. He slipped his long boots back over the leather and stood up, reaching for the cotton shirt but a whimper from behind him drew his attention. Morgana stood, her eyes glazed and unfallen tears shining as she stared at him.
“I killed her father. I stabbed him.” Merlin nodded and went to her, holding her shoulders deeply in his, and held her to him. She clutched at his skin, her nails scoring his pale flesh and then smoothing out again, scrunching into fists against him. “Why?”
“You were defending Uther.” She leant back and shook her head, her glistening hair thick about her face. Merlin stared at her as she struggled with her thoughts.
“No. Why am I feeling this now? For so long, I didn’t feel anything at all. For so long… and now it feels like I’m feeling everything. She looked up into his face and touched it, staring at him.
“This… this is what I’ve never felt before, Merlin. I feel everything a hundred times over. It’s like every breath is filled with life and I can’t take it all.” Merlin took her free hand in his and brought it down to his chest, looking down into her upturned face. His eyes dropped to her lips, then his head followed for a moment. She breathed in a deep gasp of air and the sound broke his daze. He’d been about to kiss her. Merlin squeezed her hand against his chest in reassurance and took a deep breath himself, but that didn’t enhance his calm, as all he could smell was the scent of her skin and hair. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes.
“I think something about this place has changed us. Something had altered us. We’re experiencing what the other feels. I have your righteous rage and your hurt, and you have parts of me.” Morgana shook her head, still staring up at him and not letting him go.
“No, Merlin. It’s not just since we got here. It started before. The Sarram.” Merlin’s eyes darkened. “Splitting away from Arthur.” Those blue eyes dropped down and then looked away, and Morgana felt herself falling back down for a second as if he’d released her into the air. Something about his fire held her, captivated her. She had power. He WAS power. “Admit it, Merlin. Since the day the Sarram dragged me into Arthur’s throne room, we’ve been different.” He nodded, and her hands dropped to his hips, straying there for a moment and making his body tingle before stretching around his waist and holding him. Again his arms tightened around her.
“You’re right.” He swallowed and her hands moved back, tracing lines of light across his skin back to his hips. “Uh…” His open skin was on fire underneath her fingertips, and her eyes moved back up, clear of tears now, to his face. Merlin was going to kiss her. He couldn’t help himself. “We’re in the grips of something. Yes. And it’s not right. We should be careful.” He moved back away from her, and she stared at him, realizing for the first conscious time that he was naked from the waist up. Morgana’s tongue darted across her lower lip and she leant back, feeling some of her old energy surging back. Her eyes darkened like Merlin’s had, and he moved away from her.
“Whatever we’re feeling is a by product of the enchantment we’re under.” She felt as though cold water were dashed on her, and Merlin wished for a moment that he had been. Breathing suddenly because easier as he moved back and struggled into the cotton shirt. Morgana closed her hands against her own body and reminded herself that while this Merlin was so different, he was also Merlin.
“Of… course, Merlin. You’re right. Unless it’s not an enchantment, but I think you’re right.” She turned away and brought her hand to her lips, the scent of his skin thick on her fingers. A salty musk to him that brought heady images to the young sorceress and had her breathing deeper to calm herself. “What else did Tauren’s daughter say?”
* * * * *
As the weeks passed, they adapted, as people will. Merlin hunted during the day, setting snares and collecting roots and edible leaves in the forest, filling the diet with mushrooms and berries when he could. After some weeks, he began to build a vegetable garden at the top of the fourth floor in the ruins of the weather bleached summer garden. Morgana came with him after some time, and the two began to find a peace in one another’s company. During the day they would gather and practice magic. During the night hours they would talk.
People began to drift into the camp slowly, in twos and threes. Druids, sorcerers, magic half breeds, ordinary folk who were friends to those with magic. Tradespeople and farmers, it didn’t matter, they came on the Knights of Tauren’s promise, and Merlin honoured it. Within a month, there were twenty families housed in Sigan’s Retreat. Many would come needing help, other’s simply a place to stay. More Knights of Tauren came through, and some stayed. After a while, such a community had built up that daily tasks became jobs, and the community grew. The ruins were cleaned out, the gardens above were expanded to feed the growing number, and magic was everywhere. Merlin walked about the groves quite often, helping and speaking to people while Morgana watched from her tower window. As the new moon came in, she performed the season rites, wishing for a plentiful year and to bless the small community. People thanked her afterwards, and bowed before her, and for the first time, Morgana knew what it was to be a High Priestess and have a following. She led them in the old rites of the new moon and new season, and found herself burdened less by the guilt she once felt for her actions and shouldering the responsibilities of being a true leader. There were many people there now, and Merlin became the mediator between disputes and the healer, using what he’d learned from Gaius over the years, and Morgana settled into her role as a High Priestess. Still more came in, and Merlin one night nervously broached the subject of joining their rooms into one to clear his room when a family of seven came, magic users all, to the smallest child. Morgana helped him move the bed into her room herself, with her hands. Though not concerned by the security, Merlin nonetheless strove to ensure there was very little impropriety. He drew up a screen for her that was substantial and quiet should she need the privacy to bathe, though at her behest he stayed in the room to discuss the day. It became their regular routine that he would sit and eat while she bathed in the evening. Merlin ran himself thin across the community, making certain that all were well and taking it upon himself to assist as best he could. While it seemed strange, Morgana settled in with him in an almost blissful domesticity. If not happy, she was certainly… content.
* * * * *
As the feast of Beltain approached, two of the families that had arrived from the same city asked for a wedding to be performed, joining their two houses. While Morgana saw no harm in it, Merlin insisted that they speak to the two young lovers to make certain it was their idea. Morgana laughed as he adorably tried to ensure their feelings, when the girl had archly asked if he wanted a demonstration, he’d stumbled and looked to Morgana, who had laughed as richly as she once did.
The wedding was a night to remember, and Merlin’s speech about the truth of love and the wondrous nature of magic that was eclipsed only by the power of the heart had Morgana staring at him with eyes shining again with her tears.
As she performed the hand fastening, she had looked at Merlin and understood for the first time that he was a truly good man. All through their time, he had been there for her, had held up his end of their truth, that she was a princess to him and always would be. Deep in her mind, she wondered what would have been able to happen had that not been the case, but nonetheless things were as they were. Or were they? Merlin had shown no interest in any of the other women at the camp, including some of the druid girls from Cenred’s kingdom, who had boldly approached him to teach them magic personally. Morgana’s glare had surprised herself, and sent the girls scurrying away. Merlin, blessedly, was ignorantly generous with his time, if embarrassed when Morgana pointed out that they had ulterior motives.
The wedding feast continued long into the night, celebrating both the wedding and Beltain as well. Merlin danced with a young girl, barely into her second ten years who giddily stood atop his feet as he floated across the stones to the sounds of the music. He bowed low when the song ended and the young girl clumsily planted a kiss on his cheek. He sent her back to her friends and came and sat beside Morgana, pouring her a glass of wine and himself a glass of water. The long day was beginning to get to Morgana, and she had leant her head back against the high chair, comforted by the fire before them and feeling it fighting off the cold air around them. The moon was already on it’s set when Trennen, commander of the knights at the Retreat moved forward toward Merlin.
“Setting tonight’s watch a bit later, my lord, my lady. The knights have been too long without the sound of laughter.” Merlin frowned at the knight, but Morgana inclined her head, in thanks. Merlin rubbed his chin for a while and then reached for the knight’s sword, which he received with a bow. He held the sword up between his hands, hilt and tip grasped, then chanted for a moment. He finished powerfully, and a wave of power emanated from the sword and washed the grove in a thick ring of fog, which flowed outwards into the forest. Merlin stumbled for a moment and Morgana was there, under his arms and holding him for an instant. The knight exclaimed in alarm and reached Merlin the same time, but Morgana waved him off. Merlin handed the sword back to the knight and smiled crookedly.
“I’ll just need a minute. We’re cloaked and the fog will signal your sword to glow if anyone passes through it. The spell will only last for but a night, but your own knights, as you say, deserve an eve away from duty.” The knight stared at him and then looked out around them at the astonished knights and families. Trennen bowed his head and sheathed his sword.
“Would that you were a king, Myrddin. I would cross my heart for you.” He bowed low and sent his men scurrying back to the party, and Morgana tilted his head up from it’s droop. Merlin gave a half smile to her that showed his exhaustion.
“Took a bit more out of me than I wanted them to know. I think I’ll head to bed, if you don’t mind?” Morgana nodded, smiling softly to herself in his arms.
“I’d say I was taking you, but I’m ready for sleep as well.” He blushed at that and she gave a soft laugh, then made their way through the dancers and guests, wishing the families the best, on account of their newly married children already having retired to bed. There were very few sounds throughout the house as Morgana and Merlin made their way up to their room, and the door provided a moment of shuffling as Merlin leant against the door and Morgana refused to let go of him. It opened with a suddenness that had Morgana laying on Merlin in the doorway, and Merlin staring directly down her top. His dark red blush had her biting her lip to stop laughing, and the red faded from his face as he stared at her. They apologised to one another before Merlin got back up and locked the door, then turned back to speak to her, but Morgana was already by the small fireplace, heating some soup she’d taken from the food table and breaking apart some bread and putting it near the fire to warm. Merlin stared as she worked and she caught his eyes as she bent over to stir the soup, locked on her face. Her mouth cricked upwards into a smirk, and her eyes shone. Then she frowned in rebuke at him.
“You didn’t eat. You do so much here you neglect yourself, so that when you fall in a heap, so will the Retreat.” He nodded and bowed his head at her in thanks, then took over the warming as he dunked a torn chunk of the bread into the soup. Morgana moved to the window by her bed, sitting on the sill and taking in the moonlit scene. From this high up, she could see the top of the fog ring around them. Merlin continued to eat behind her, mopping the soup up with the bread and then taking some of the mint leaves from his bed head and chewing on some of them. He breathed in deeply and took a long drink of water, then moved over to Morgana. He took his thick blanket with him and draped it over her, then settled beside her. In the moonlight, her beauty stole his soul. He was reminded again that she was a queen, and far, far above him in station. Her eyes seemed a thousand miles away, and her lips looked flushed and full in the cold. Her jade eyes stared down into the courtyard and then suddenly locked onto Merlin’s own blue orbs.
“You would make an amazing father, Merlin.” He scoffed and then stared as she smiled at him softly, drinking in the sight that had begun to haunt his dreams. He was falling for her, he knew. And that was where disaster lay. But he didn’t understand the last, and told her so. Morgana shrugged, then gestured far below them, to the still dancing knights and the families, to the community that had grown up about them.
“The Knights of Tauren talk about you like you’re their King, Merlin… a part of me wonders what you’d do with a crown. Are you building an army to take on Camelot?” He shrugged and stretched out, moving his legs beside hers, then settling her against him when she put her feet into his own lap. His fingers toyed with her toes in the cold air.
“I’m just trying to make sure we’re safe. There’s a lot of people down there that are just trying to find a place to sleep. It’s not fair if we take what they offer and give nothing in return.” Morgana leant back, her jade eyes on him until she smiled suddenly, and Merlin felt his stomach tighten as her beauty washed over him again.
“We’re building something here, Merlin.”
“Yes, I guess we are,” came his murmur as he continued to stare. He always stared at her, he noted distractedly. He just couldn’t figure out what it was about her that captivated him. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t that. Her eyes were unique, but it wasn’t that. He silently counted off all the beautiful parts to her, until finally he shrugged to himself and looked back down at her toes. Which were cute and perfect, topping a foot that he was suddenly hyper aware was close to his crotch. He shifted nervously and a dark glint appeared in Morgana’s eye. He took another breath and cleared his throat, trying to concentrate.
“Maybe… maybe we went about it wrong the first time around. Wanting Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms to welcome magic back into the land. Maybe we have to prove them wrong. We WILL prove them wrong…” A dark light came into his own eyes as he stared at Morgana, but it wasn’t the heat in hers, but a dark light of another kind.
“Tell me, Morgana, what would you do, if you were given the throne with no Pendragons? If you had the throne, what would you do?” She stared at him for a long time, then looked away and down to the community. They were dousing the last of the fires below, and the little girl who had danced with Merlin looked up and waved. Morgana waved back.
“I’ve already proven that I would be a selfish ruler, Merlin. The people wouldn’t follow me.”
“Then don’t be selfish. What would you do for the betterment of society? Instead of tearing down what you don’t like, what would you build?” She pondered that while Merlin rubbed at her feet, and she closed her eyes, leaning back and feeling the smile coming at the warmth of his touch, and the gentle pressure of his fingers which seemed to ease the ache from her feet.
“Equality for those with magic. Magic is simply a skill that a person has that another doesn’t. It’s use for good or ill is only a reflection on those blessed by the triple goddess with the power of magic. A man can defend with a sword as easily as he can attack. A woman too.” Merlin smiled then, and Morgana felt something deep within her beginning to yearn for him to smile for all the days she would ever know him. But she squelched it. Merlin had shown no interest in her like that beyond a few wayward glances. She didn’t want to sully this new, very important part to her life with such an obvious mistake.
“You’re assuming much is you’re saying you’re evil and I’m good.” She bit her lip against her smile and hit him gently on the leg that dangled over the windowsill beside her.
“Aren’t we? Not so much anymore, I suppose, but isn’t that what we were? Both evil, to one another?” Merlin shook his head and frowned at her gently, concern and truth on his face.
“I never thought you evil, Morgana. Betrayed, broken, lost, yes. But never evil, no matter your rage. I think now on everything and wonder if it was supposed to act out in a certain way, and that none of it was your fault. But here we are. I don’t know if we’re destined to be enemies, Morgana, but I know that I will spend the rest of my life making certain that I don’t let you down again.” His hands stilled on her feet and he reached up to wipe away the traitorous tear that claimed her cheek, and her jade eyes closed against his touch, leaning into his hand. They fell silent as he continued to hold her feet, then moved his legs slightly up to her ankles and calves. Morgana wiped her eyes clean and watched him as he absently sent trails of lightning and fire up her legs, his fingers tracing lines across her and rising up, though in a frustratingly absent way, not even acknowledging that he was touching her higher and higher up her leg. Morgana stared at him, her eyes darker than ever, the bright green eyes locked onto his face, watching for any signs of his awareness of what he was doing to her.
“I’d want more medicine,” he suddenly blurted, rubbing and gently pinching her calve muscle. “Not just a court physician, but many. Enough for everyone. People always need healing. And helping new and exciting things coming in, science or magic, it wouldn’t matter. Letting everyone come in and make a difference for the better. A land where all can come and get help, or give it. Where the whole city is beautiful, not just the courtyard or the palace, but the city itself, filled with gardens and simply a home. Where people are proud of their streets and their stalls and aren’t afraid to come for fear of anything being discovered. Where everyone is someone and that’s okay as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.” Merlin nodded to himself and Morgana smiled softly again at his enthusiasm.
“It sounds like a beautiful dream, Merlin.” He broke off his stare into space and his hands stilled on her shins.
“You’re welcome to it, Morgana.” She shook her head.
“It couldn’t be here. Not in Camelot.” He shrugged as if that didn’t matter.
“Would you come with me then? Leave Camelot behind and start afresh, in one of the other kingdoms?” Morgana had never considered that. The silence stretched long and Merlin fell silent, seeing the idea as discarded. Morgana looked back out the window to the moon, already passed its halfway point. Soon it would pass out of view completely, and the sky would begin to brighten.
“Leave? The throne is as much mine as Arthur’s. More so, given I was firstborn.” Merlin stayed still for a moment, then sighed and nodded his head.
“Yes, of course. I know it is.” He sat there, gently running his hands over her feet and ankles, and then touched her hand. She didn’t respond, and her deep breathing was soft and peaceful. Merlin picked her up and laid her gently in bed, then kissed her temple and she smiled in her sleep. He lifted her blanket onto her and made certain she was comfortable, then went back to the sill with his old leather bound book in his lap, and ink and a quill. He sat there and wrote until the sun came up. Whatever had enchanted them, whatever had happened to Morgana, was changing him as well. He wondered if he were better off giving into his feelings or putting them aside. As he stared at her sleeping form, he realised it was too late regardless. Her was in love with her.
* * * * *
Merlin gasped as the sword bit into his shoulder beneath the armour, and the knight jumped back, apologizing. Merlin twisted and tried to move the clothing away from the wound, which was becoming sticking with the blood. Protected somewhat, the blow had still been enough to open him up. He gave a wry smile to the obviously abhorred knight and reached out, touching him on the shoulder and reassuring him. The evening’s meal was long over, and he was tired, as he always was these days. It had been two weeks since the wedding night, and Merlin had barely slept. He could smell her. It wasn’t right. She bathed every night, and she was all he could smell when he woke up. It was as if he awoke with his face in her hair every morning. He listened to her breathing of a night time, and in his own sleep he listened to her dreaming, comforting her when he needed to and letting her rest when it was done. Every day he grew hungrier for her, wanting to drown in her lips and feel her fold around him, covering him and he covering her. Merlin closed his eyes as a spasm of pain came against him and he moved off toward the keep, as Sigan’s Retreat had become known. The blood dripped down his arm and covered his fingertips and he made his way up to their room and shut the door quietly. Morgana was already in her bath behind the screen, and he began to quietly undress. Wordlessly, he breathed in through is teeth and hissed as the blood stuck the shirt to his shoulder. It was a long cut, not that deep, but awkward to get to. He turned back and held up a small mirror, trying to see over his shoulder. He could feel the flesh burning from the bruising and contact and took several deep breaths to steady himself as he felt the lightheadedness close in on him. The pain closed in on him and then he was turned around and Morgana slapped him, hard. The sudden pain cleared his vision, and he looked at her, his jaw working as he tried to speak. The gown clung to her body, she’d obviously gotten out of the bath, but it clung to her body. Every curve, every single sliver of skin was lined with the wet material, showing everything and nothing all at once. Her breasts and her hard nipples showed through, straining against the material’s embrace and Merlin felt himself suddenly breathing heavy as he stared at her, feeling her body affect him for the first time in a way not at all wholesome. These were feelings that he couldn’t bury, couldn’t disguise. He felt his breath rasp in his throat as he felt the scent of her skin across his tongue and his throat as the steam rose off her body in the cold room, and swallowed as if she were a fine wine. Morgana’s eyes, glued to his shoulder, glowed with the heat of her anger.
“You should have said something!” she snarled, then turned her glare back to his eyes and stopped as she noticed. He stared at her hungrily, feeling the curves and heat of her body so close, and feeling himself suddenly overcome with the sense of desire she was evoking in him. His intensity broke within him when she stepped towards him, the softness of her touch suddenly changing him. He felt the need for her move back to his heart, from where it had originally come. He blinked and suddenly his cheek hurt.
“Ow.” Morgana bowed her head and looked away, coming closer to his shirtless body and her hands gliding over his skin, hovering just close enough to feel the heat radiating off him in waves, but not touching him. An exquisite torture for Merlin, but he didn’t speak to her of it. She murmured an apology as she left, coming back with a needle and thread. Passing her hand over the needle, she whispered, the glow of her eyes reflecting the quick flame that covered the needle, then vanished. She leaned forward and passed her hand again over his shoulder, and he lost the sensation in it, as she went to work. The needle shut his skin with a tug, and Morgana led him to her bed, where she began to clean the blood from him. His body, though never with Arthur’s robustness, was rippled nonetheless, showing the results of hours of sword practice and the hard physical labour that came with helping everyone do chores from building the gardens to chopping wood. Though he was far from proficient, now he and Morgana could spar for an hour or more before she beat him. She cleaned his wound in silence, as they’d already fought over his need to be more of a warrior. Morgana feared the rage that she shared with him, and feared that because it was hers that if would consume him. Merlin was the most incredible warlock she’d ever heard of, capable of things beyond the scope of even the druid’s vast magical understanding. But he still struggled with the need to be able to swing a sword. She frowned again at him and gently moved his arm above to hers. His scent was stronger because of the workout, and the way that he’d devoured her with his eyes before replayed itself in her mind’s eye. She’d never felt more desired in her life than when his eyes had lit upon her. A hunger like she’d never experienced before had taken hold of him, and she knew if he’d wanted it, she would have given herself to him in that instant. But then, as always, he’d controlled himself. It was a blessing and a curse, she thought mildly, admitting to herself that things could be very different. Her fingers lingered on his ribs and he shivered. The thought of the passion controlled within him again made her spine tingle, and at first she didn’t hear him speak as her mind roared with the out of control passion she imagined it would be with him. She thought back to the time she’d held him prisoner in her hovel, and how things could easily have been different. There was a wildness to the thought that brought her tongue to her lips and over her teeth.
“Huh?”
“If I ask it of you, will you give me truth, Morgana?” Again came that cold water sensation, and she sighed, but leant down and bit the thread off with her teeth, watching his skin tingle with goose bumps as she did so.
“If you ask it, I will.” He flexed his arms and held them wide, nodding his thanks as the stiches didn’t pull free. He stared at her for a moment, then touched at her hands, which had been wringing in her lap in taut concern.
“Please, Morgana. I feel so vastly, entirely different. Everything’s changed. Have you… have you enchanted me…?” He finished the last in a rush and for a moment, she was offended, before she saw the plea in his eyes. It was true, he was very different. Almost gone were the bumbling boy, and the naïve servant. In his place was someone very, very different. Morgana lamented the loss of the boy, and longed for the lightness there used to be in him. His smile would have thawed her coldest heart had she still held onto it, and she realised there and then that he had already done so. Merlin had given her half his life and taken on half of her darkness. Instinctively, she wanted to make his smile come back.
“No Merlin,” she said simply, and put her hand on his. He didn’t pull away, but intertwined their fingers, enjoying the simple touch between them. “I’m sorry, Merlin. What’s happened is that you’re free. We’ve had an epiphany, Merlin, both of us. It’s dangerous for people like us, as powerful as we are. Very dangerous.”
“Have you dreamed this?” She nodded, rubbing their fingers together slightly to feel him moving against her, revelling in such an honest contact from him.
“Yes. I understand a little of it. We’re diverging from where we were going. Writing our own destiny anew as we wake and sleep, as opposed to following the tune of fate, if you want to be eloquent about it.” He stared at her, a little of the light from before coming back into his eyes.
“Your dreams no longer trouble you?”
“Not that I know they’re a seer’s vision now. I’m a Seer, Merlin. They’re not nightmares or terrors, but warnings and guides. As you are a Dragonlord, I am a Seer.” He smiled at that and affected a concerned note, tapping the top of her wrist in sympathy.
“Do you want me to make you a sleeping potion, my child…?” She laughed sweetly then and shook her head, her gaze falling to their fingers. Merlin moved to shift away and she tightened her grip. She ignored his sudden smile, busy hiding one of her own at the little boy still smiling at her from the man’s eyes.
“Do you miss it, Merlin? Camelot, your friends and Gaius?” He turned her hand over and drew symbols across her palm with his free hand. The fire was burning low and dark creeping in to them, as they’d not lit any candles. There was enough low light to see though, and he drew circles then shrugged, not taking his eyes from her hand.
“I would, but every time I think of it all, Arthur’s face… the way they looked at me in that feasting hall… I fear that whole world of Camelot has betrayed me, almost.” The last was said in a whisper, and Morgana didn’t speak for some time, then moved her hair to the opposite side, running her fingers through it.
“You should be careful, Merlin. Thinking of betrayal constantly leads you to do things you’d never have thought yourself capable of, and may never find it in anyone’s heart to forgive you for.” Merlin tilted her chin up, his fingers lingering on the line of her jaw.
“You regret them, though they’ve led you to here and now and wherever we’re heading next?” He wasn’t judging her, his tone told her, but wanted to talk about it more. He didn’t blame her. He blamed himself. And Morgana could barely breathe at that thought.
“I… yes. Some of them, yes, Merlin. When you become so obsessed with such a dream, you forget that there is light in the world. You know and feel only the darkness. Before we came here, I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed at something that wasn’t someone else’s pain.” Merlin swallowed hard and put an arm around her, kissing the top of her forehead as she buried it in his unwounded shoulder, taking his shirt in her hands and twisting the material around her clenched fist.
“I could spend a lifetime apologising to you, you know that? I was wrong, Morgana. Arthur wouldn’t have ever brought magic back to Camelot. I should have joined you long ago, if only to show you that there’s light in your life as well as dark.” Morgana breathed deeply against his neck, her breath washing over him and Merlin rested his cheek against the top of her head, her hair about him and her soft scent intoxicating him.
“I don’t know, Merlin. Kilgarrah’s words are frightening. All that wisdom, down through the ages. Surely he understands what we never could about the twists of fate.” Merlin nodded against her and brought his sore arm over, feeling the ache setting in but not caring when he entwined his fingers in her hair and felt it running over his skin.
“You’d think so, but all that wisdom comes at the price of pride and arrogance, too. He was always doing his best to twist those who came to him to his own ends. Dragons, I’ve discovered, are never so objective as we’d like to believe.” She was silent at that, then he felt water trickle from his collarbones down his chest.
“Merlin.” Morgana’s eyes were closed against him, holding further tears in as best she could.
“My Lady,” he breathed against her, holding her tightly.
“I don’t want you to turn out like me.” Her tone was straightforward and definite. “That would be a crime I couldn’t live with.” Merlin nudged her head back and looked down into her eyes, seeing the tears there and finding himself needing to reassure her, if only for her own comfort, not just his. He hated her tears. He hoped she would never cry again.
“I’m the reason you went through all you did. If I’d just spoken from my heart instead of my fear, so much would have been different. Not just between us, but for Camelot, as well.”
“Your heart?” she whispered, questioning him.
“Yes.” He answered her simply as she clung to him, easing her back against his chest and simply holding her. After a moment, she relaxed against him and then gave a soft laugh.
“You’ll raise an army and bring magic back to the land then, Merlin? You’ll take my dream?” She teased him gently, trying and failing for humour as he turned to her, cutting off her smile with the gentle look in his face, and the sincerity in his eyes.
“I’ll share it with you.” She reached up and touched at his face, and he lowered his own, leaning down towards her. He hesitated for a moment until she moved forward and kissed him slowly, tentatively. For a moment, it was only her lips touching his, grasping and holding them together, and then he was answering her just as softly, a sense of wonderment in his savouring of her kisses. They were soft and delicate, tasting one another and enjoying the softness. Merlin’s hands moved down to her waist and Morgana moved in against him, holding her body against his. The low light of the fire bathed his features as he lowered her onto her bed, his lips not leaving hers. Her hands seemed everywhere on him, lightly grazing his hips and then cupping his face to explore him. His gasp against her lips as she reached into his pants and drew him out brought a smile to her, and then they were moving against one another, slowly building themselves on the sheets until the morning sun bathed them, and finally sleep claimed them.
* * * * *
Merlin struggled to wake up, from the feeling of complete stillness and contentment that covered him like the covers he lay under. He was not sure what had woken him, but the sleeping woman beside him certainly wasn’t to blame. He tentatively reached across and touched her ribs, low near her hips under the covers, and she murmured his name and turned closer, sidling into his arms and pulling his arm up under her own and kissing his fingers. She was smiling against him and he leaned over and touched his lips to her neck, and she giggled. Merlin felt himself entirely satisfied in that moment, as the High Priestess of the Old Religion giggled like a tickled toddler. She stretched out languorously, her arms twisting up and then coming down around his neck. He kissed her smile and she gave a low laugh. He moved on the bed and gave a grunt of pain as his shoulder flared in agony. Morgana gasped and moved him towards her, the stickiness keeping the sheet against him for a moment before tearing free. Her face showing her concern, Morgana quickly wrapped the sheet around her and stoked the fire, flaring it up with a gesture and setting the water over it to boil. She came back and sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through her hair ruefully once she saw that Merlin’s shoulder wasn’t quite as bad as she’d thought. He was watching her with that thrilling little intimate smile that seemed to set fire to her senses again and again. She bit her bottom lip and he shook his head and kissed her, very very seriously. After a moment she put a hand on his chest and took several deep breaths before imperiously glowering at him. She couldn’t hold it for long against his grin and then his arms, and then his lips against her shoulder. Fingers quickly grazed across her breasts over the sheet, and Morgana slapped his hand away but nestled into his chest. Merlin brought his lips down to her ear.
“Good morning, my lady,” he breathed lowly, and heat bloomed over her body again at his tone. She shook her head at herself and rubbed her arms, though her smile didn’t stop.
“Good morning, my lord,” she mocked. The steam from the pot began to lift up, and she took it off the flame and mixed it with the remaining cold water. It was already close to midday, she thought as she cleaned Merlin again and then looked about her. The bed was a shambles, but the beautiful day was calling to them from outside. The bed could wait. Merlin cheekily thanked her, his wonder reaching his eyes. Morgana self consciously touched her hair and he smiled to himself.
“Don’t bother fussing with it. You look like you’ve just been taken abed.” She gave a low laugh and bit her bottom lip again. He frowned at her in warning, his eyes very bright.
“If you want to get out of the room for the rest of the day, you’ll stop that.” Innocently, she raised her eyes and let the sheet slip to the side, exposing the barest hint of her breasts and the full side of her thigh.
“Why my lord, whatever do you mean?” she asked archly, and then laughed when Merlin coughed and stood up in embarrassment, showing her affect on him. He moved back with his pants and pulled them up over himself, pushing himself back into his pants with a growl of frustration. Morgana laughed richly and he stuck his tongue out at her. He slowly pulled his old blue shirt back on, followed by his boots. He pulled his hand through his hair and straightened it slightly. Morgana laid back in the bed and stretched again, drawing him closer to her as she rolled over in the sheets and lay on her stomach, her entire side shown for him to see. Idly, he traced his fingers up her body until he touched her mouth and leant in to kiss her. The kiss was deep and full, savouring one another even as he smiled against her. When it eventually stopped, Morgana lay her head down on the pillow while Merlin ran his fingers over her shoulders and down her back. They didn’t rest on the scars of the Sarram’s whip, or feel like he even saw them. Merlin stared at her as if she were precious and perfect. And made her feel like she was.
“I’m glad it was with someone special.” His soft voice echoed the pleasure he felt in the simple touch. Morgana opened an eye to him and smiled before his words cleared in her mind. The sudden realisation made her shoot upright, pushing herself off the bed and staring at him. Merlin gave a smile and shrugged as she stared, not believing it. He nodded and shrugged again.
“You’ve never…?” He shook his head and shrugged again, then his hand stilled on her back.
“I don’t… I mean, I don’t expect… I just, I’m glad that it was you. No matter what happens, I’ll always have this moment, when my life wasn’t just a destiny. This will always be mine, if you’ll let me have it.” Tears escaped her then, and she laid back down and then looked at him out the corner of her eye.
“Merlin, that was your first? I mean, I was your first?” He nodded and gave a short laugh.
“I was that obvious about it, I thought you would have noticed. I hope you felt like I did. Do.” She smiled then and nodded.
“I didn’t know. Which you should take as a compliment. Why didn’t you say something?” His eyes wandered over her body and he gave that low, knowing smile as he circled a small bruise on her shoulder, wincing at his teeth marks on her.
“You don’t explain a diamond, or ask questions of it. You just appreciate the beauty of it.” Again she felt warmed by him and softly kissed her fingers and reached out to his face. He laid down beside her and kissed at her again, those incredible soft kisses an exploration of her taste, and Morgana couldn’t for the life of her remember anything other than last night and this morning. She felt adored, in every single cell; loved in every sense. They lay like that for some time, until finally he smiled and gave a low laugh.
“They’ll wonder what happened…” She smiled at him and stared into his eyes, connecting deeply with him.
“They’ll wonder what took us so long.” He nodded, his head on his hand as he propped himself up on his good shoulder. He gave a laugh then, but there was a seriousness to his eyes.
“I meant what we spoke about the other day. Going somewhere else and beginning again.” She nodded, her smile fading but her mood still lifted.
“Where?”
“Amata.” The name sent a shock through her and she quieted in his arms. Her breathing was low and shallow and he cradled her in his arms.
“Why would you take me back there?” He held her head in his arms and stroked the back of her neck, running his fingers through her hair and gripping it then releasing it, massaging the back of her neck.
“Aithusa. We’re getting her back. The court at Amata is holding her still in their throne room as defence against your vengeance against them. I knew they were holding her. She’s why you didn’t unleash on everyone back at Camelot, when he came bearing you as a gift, isn’t she?” It was no more a question than a statement, but she nodded against him.
“Yes. They have her. And if I make a move, towards them, then they will kill her.” Merlin gave a low snarl against her, and held her tight against him.
“Then it’s time we got her back.” Morgana twisted in his arms and felt her chest hurt as she saw his resolve. Merlin was by her side now, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Her battles were their battles. She kissed him soundly, and rolled on top of him, kissing him deeply and with the passion that had brought them together. He stared at her with that telling smile on his face, awed at the fact that she could even see him. Morgana breathed in deeply and settled back onto his chest, thinking of Aithusa being held in the silver chains behind the Sarram’s throne room and nodding to herself. She was ready. Whatever their path was leading them to, it would lead them down the same path. Where to from here, she wondered silently.
“Amata,” murmured Merlin against her head, as his lips moved across to kiss her once again.
“Amata.”
End of Chapter 2