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Behind her, the Knights of Camelot were closing in on her. All Morgause had wanted, to reach her sister. But the King had corrupted her mind, had managed to convince her that he would legalise Magic just because of her. Morgause wanted to point out that a Pendragon could never be trusted, but it had ended with her own sister turning against her.
She’d never forget the moment that Morgana hurled the fire towards her, tears streaming down her face as she stood between Arthur and her own sister. Morgause had been too shocked to block the hit, stumbled back blindly and hit the wall, before Arthur had given the order to his Knights to arrest her.
This was not the plan. Now, Morgause dismounted from her horse, sending it into the forest in a hope to distract the Knights.
She had consulted Druids, all of them telling her that Arthur should never have gotten that far. That somebody was meddling in Destiny, somebody far stronger than her. Was that Morgana? Had she really got the ability…
Morgause tripped, swore as she hit the ground. The wound in her side was bleeding, sticky and hot beneath the hand she had clamped over it. She dragged herself up, demanding her feet hold her weight as she stumbled through the trees, looking to the faint smoke she could see in the sky. Night had drawn in quickly, lucky for her, because it was easier to hide.
A village. She had to be over the border by now, somewhere in Essetir, with no hope unless she could find a home willing to take her in. The High Priestess managed to drag herself into the village, propped herself up on a fence and look around.
Her Magic chose this moment to bubble up, guiding her in the direction of one of the houses. Long ago, she’d learned that her Magic was almost always right. To trust it, to follow its guidance. It had been her heart that had driven her to Camelot, and now it was her Magic driving her to raise a bloodied fist to the door in front.
She managed to knock, before her body began to feel rather light. She slumped forward, strangely not into the hard wood that she’d been expecting, but a warm body that stood in the entrance to the threshold.
Behind her, she could hear the hooves of Camelot, could hear her death sentence, proclaimed by the man her own sister was protecting.
In front of her, the smell of pine and lavender, a body that scooped her up just as her vision went black.
**
When she woke, it was to the warmth of furs over her body. Morgause let her body rest for just a moment longer, before opening her eyes and waiting to be confronted with the Knights of Camelot.
She was not in a cell.
A small home, filled with furniture that looked well-worn, and a crackling fire in the centre. Pots hung over the stove, a basin of water on the side, bloodied rags on the fireplace that she focused on, before tugging away the blankets over her body.
Her armour had been stripped from her, but her shirt remained. Around her stomach, white bandages that she traced the edge of, before trying to sit up.
The door to the hut opened, and Morgause got her first look at her saviour. Wild black hair, messy and loose down the woman’s back, a red tunic and trousers that were far too big for her frame. When the woman turned, Morgause eyed up the bright-blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and red lips, which stretched into a smile.
‘You’re awake, good. Are you hungry? Thirsty?’ Her saviour moved to place down the logs she was carrying, reached for a waterskin with nimble fingers. Morgause did not speak as the woman crossed the space to her, although she did part her lips and swallow down the offered liquid.
A crinkled smile was her reward, Morgause forcing herself to sit up as the woman turned to the fire.
‘You gave me quite the shock, you’re lucky I’m the apprentice to a physician, otherwise I think you’d have bled out! I gave you a couple of stitches, the wound was slightly too deep to heal by itself.’ A bowl of what looked to be broth was plated up, then offered out. Morgause reached with shaky hands, mentally berating herself for her show of weakness.
The woman didn’t seem to mind, sat by her side and offered the spoon.
‘Can I ask your name, Miss?’ Normally, Morgause would have no time for companions. She had a mission, to find her sister, to keep her safe from the Pendragons. To bring Magic back to the lands of Albion.
She was a patient woman, a Warrior, blessed with both Magic and the ability to wield a sword. For those reasons alone, she did not have many friends. Women hated her brashness, men hated her abilities.
She almost gave her real name, before thinking better of it. Instead, she opted for the name her Mother had wanted to give her.
‘Iris.’ Whether the woman believed her or not, was a different question.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Iris. My name’s Merlin.’ She could have sworn the name was familiar, that she had heard of such a person before. But no, why would she know about a woman living in Essetir?
‘Y…you’re a healer?’ She croaked out, before returning the hand to her side.
Yesterday, she had let her heart rule. Now she was injured, and her Magic had dwindled down to nothing more than a faint hum in her veins.
‘See for yourself.’ The woman, Merlin, teased. Then she rose up, leaving Morgause to eat the broth she had been given. It warmed her, and actually tasted far better than she’d expected.
‘I left your armour over there, and your sword. As for the Knights chasing you… they’ve gone.’ Merlin had her back to Morgause, so the Witch could not tell what the woman was thinking.
‘Harbouring a fugitive?’ She questioned, swinging her legs from the bed and gasping as the pain flared up. In an instant, Merlin was by her side, scolding her gently and helping her back into the bed.
‘You must rest, Iris. The burns weren’t too bad, but the arrow-wound…’ So, she was a healer familiar with battle wounds. Interesting, and had the Witch got time to rest and relax, she might have found Merlin’s company worthy of her response. Instead, she needed to get back to the King, to have him support her demands for an army to face the Pendragon.
‘I must leave. I have to…’ She tried to rise, only for her legs to crumble under her. Arms caught her, Merlin was surprisingly strong, and sat her back down.
‘If you fear that I would sell you out…’
‘I could be a murderer, for all you know. An assassin.’ She pointed out, watching as Merlin’s lips quirked up at the sides. Honestly, Morgause was quite stunned by the woman’s attitude. Like it was completely normal for a woman to wield a sword, or to have armour.
‘Or, you could be hiding a gift that is illegal in Camelot.’ Morgause stilled, suddenly realising her mistake. The broth could have been poisoned, as could the water, and…
‘Hush, I’m not going to hurt you! I just… you need not fear me.’ Ridiculous, the very idea of fearing such a stick-thin woman that was wearing boy’s clothes and looked like she hadn't ever run a brush through her hair. A wildling, slightly fae-like in appearance, and it took Morgause another moment to figure out why her Magic had brought her here.
‘You have a gift.’ Morgause concluded, and watched the familiar panic cross the woman’s face. Yet Merlin was brave, she did not flinch or run, she simply stared.
‘Are we on the same page?’ A saying usually reserved to the higher classes, to those that could actually read and write, odd for an Essetir maid. Unmarried, if the home was anything to go by. But wealthier than expected.
An apprentice, she had said, to a Physician? Did she come from one of the bigger towns?
‘We are. You keep your secrets, Faeling, and I will keep mine.’ The nickname had Merlin’s lips quirking up, before she nodded.
‘Very well, shieldmaiden.’ Daring, mischief in her eyes, and Morgause settled back into the furs, content to watch the Sorceress.
**
The knock at the door startled her. Morgause jumped, instinct driving her towards the sword that she wished she had, but Merlin held a hand up.
‘Knights. Wait here.’ And with that, the girl slipped out of the house. Morgause was left alone yet again, but this time, she was more agile. She slipped out from the sheets, slowly rose up and tested her balance as she moved across the room. Sure enough, her sword and armour lay perfectly unharmed, perhaps even cleaner than she left them. She crouched down, ran a hand over the shiny metal.
Polished. The girl had polished her armour, which had to be the most amusing thing that Morgause had ever seen. Another step, reaching the fire and staring down at it.
The door swung open, Merlin stepping into her home and remaining unfazed that Morgause was on her feet.
‘They’ve gone, I told them I hadn't seen you.’ Morgause watched the girl move across to the bench, sitting down and rubbing her eyes as if she were tired.
Of course. Morgause would have woken her, and was now sleeping in the only bed.
‘Is this your home?’ She asked, taking a seat on another bench. The place looked to be a normal home, familiar with the outskirts of the Kingdoms.
‘My Mother’s. She’s away at the moment, so I said I’d tend to her lands.’ There was no father, then. Surprisingly rich for a woman and her daughter, but Morgause didn’t point that out.
‘You don’t live here normally?’ She was pushing for answers that she wouldn’t give herself, but Merlin didn’t seem bothered by it.
‘No. I’ve got a home in Camelot.’ That had her tensing up, hands itching for her sword, but Merlin just smiled.
‘I’ve told you, I’m not a threat. Get some rest, once they’ve gone, I’ll take you down to the stream to bathe.’
**
The stream pooled into a slightly larger lake, before disappearing off into the forest. This proved to be useful for Morgause, who perched on one of the rocks and let Merlin unlace her boots. The faeling was quiet as she worked, placed Morgause’s boots to the side and then reached for her shirt.
When she grew up, Morgause had a maid named Alva. She was a sweet-tempered, docile woman who was at least her Mother’s age. The woman had dressed her, fed her, bathed her. When Morgause went away to learn the intricacies of the Old Religion, Alva had been left to fend for herself.
Merlin was not a maid. Or maybe she was. Her fingers were quick, her face calm as she undressed Morgause with an ease that implied she served somebody in Camelot. Did she know Morgana? Was that even possible?
With her shirt abandoned, and her trousers following, Merlin turned her back to give Morgause some privacy. Strangely, she found herself blushing as she stripped off the last fragment of clothing, moved into the waters carefully. The bandages soaked immediately, but they held in place. Once she was far enough in the water, she cleared her throat to inform Merlin that she could turn around.
The woman moved to her clothes, folding them neatly and placing them down.
‘You’re somebody’s maid.’ Morgause dared to ask, and Merlin’s head rose. For a moment, Morgause thought she would be denied.
‘The King’s.’
Morgause summoned the fire to her hands, uncaring that she was showing her powers off. Merlin didn’t look afraid, cocked her head to the side and stared at the fire.
She should throw it. Not only was this the maid of the King, the same man that she was being hunted by, but it was someone that could take advantage of her weak state.
Then, Morgause realised that the woman had trusted her. Healed her, brought her into the home without question. Almost admitted to Magic, which the King couldn’t know about.
She kept the flame controlled, waiting for Merlin’s reaction. It came a moment later, when Merlin bent to the water and scooped up a ball of water, eyes flicking gold as she did so. Perfect control, over one of the more temperamental elements, not even needing to mutter a word.
‘Come and join me.’ Morgause gestured to the water, pulling back the fire and turning away.
**
It was on their fifth journey to the lake, that Morgause finally worked up the courage to speak the truth. Merlin had been patient, had watched her healing over the time. Every morning, she would change the bandages, before going about her day like she would normally. Morgause would stay bedridden, occasionally standing up and wandering around. By her seventh day she had worked up the strength to go outside.
Merlin’s Mother, Hunith, owned some animals. A cow that had a calf born in the spring, a small group of chickens that Merlin fed with corn. A goat, which grazed in the paddock with the cow. Merlin tended to them with a gentle hand, with eyes that occasionally flicked golden to calm the creatures. She was strong, but gave no indication of how she’d learned her Magic.
Anyway, they were at the Lake. It was a hot day, the sun shining brightly.
‘My name’s Morgause.’ She rang her hair out, threading her fingers into the strands to ease them apart. Merlin tilted her head to the side, curiosity burning in her eyes. Her clothes had been abandoned in a pile, Merlin diving into the water with a lithe form and pale skin, scars that Morgause studied openly. Merlin didn’t waver from her gaze, allowed her eyes to roam from the burns on her chest, down to the various white marks.
‘The sister of Morgana.’ Merlin remarked, swimming across to where Morgause was perched on one of the rocks.
In truth, her body was healing quickly. With the addition of Merlin’s Magic, the wound was almost gone. There was no need for her to stay in the company of the Faeling, she could quite easily go back to Cenred and demand her army.
‘Yes.’ Merlin hummed, disappeared under the water for a moment, before re-emerging.
‘I am expected back in Camelot, in four days.’ Merlin provided, Morgause halting.
Of course. She should have known that Merlin had a life to get back to, that she couldn’t stay hiding out in this place forever. It may be nice, the quiet life that she’d never had, but it wasn’t permanent.
‘I’ll leave on that day then. I can give you coin, for all that…’ Merlin splashed her before she could finish the sentence. Morgause had offered money many times, for the hospitality that the Sorceress had shown, but it was always denied.
‘I don’t ask for your coin.’ Merlin halted, before looking up at her.
‘I do ask for something, though.’
Morgause should have expected this. Everyone wanted something, a rise in power or wealth, new knowledge. She waited for the price that the woman would demand, wondering why she hadn't accepted the coin.
‘Name your price.’
‘That you come to Camelot, to reconcile with your sister.’
**
Morgause watched the deep oranges and reds, dancing across her vision as she sat in front of the fire. Tomorrow, Merlin would return to Camelot, and Morgause had to leave as well. But the question was, did she go to Camelot, or did she go to Cenred. She rubbed her hands together, twiddling her thumbs awkwardly as she tried to figure out why her Magic was telling her to stay with Merlin.
‘I lied to you. I have another name, one you might recognise.’ Morgause didn’t turn to her friend, simply stayed still. Merlin shuffled awkwardly, her feet scraping on the floor, and Morgause could feel the anxiety radiating off her from here.
‘Emrys.’
It made sense. The girl was far more talented than she should be, and the fact that she could use Magic instinctively… Morgause took a deep breath, finally understanding why her Magic naturally wanted to trust Merlin.
As a High Priestess, Merlin should not be her enemy. They fought for the same thing, to unite Magic.
‘Is it him?’ The words were foul, tasted like bile on her tongue, but she had to know.
‘Yes. Arthur’s the Once and Future King.’ A Pendragon. The son of the man that ruined her life, that killed her kind.
It was cruel, but Morgause should have expected that. Destiny wasn’t kind, it was horrible. It tore up everything she loved, everyone she cared for, just like Merlin.
Morgause looked over her shoulder, found Merlin’s watery eyes on her.
‘I didn’t want to lie…’ She was young. A year younger than Morgana, a girl that had powers she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and Morgause pitied her. Destiny had not been kind to Merlin, but Morgause could be.
She stood up, took both of Merlin’s hands in hers and squeezed them.
‘Then we fight for the same thing.’ Morgause kept her gaze focused on Merlin’s eyes, watched the hesitant smile cross her face.
‘Come back to Camelot with me.’ Merlin’s words had a meaning beneath them, something she couldn’t quite figure out, but Morgause found herself agreeing.
‘I’ll talk to Arthur, and to Morgana. Everything will be alright.’
**
There was a lot of shouting. Arthur threatened to have her imprisoned, while Morgana cried silently. The Knights gathered around Merlin protectively, the girl rolling her eyes but smiling encouragingly at Morgause, who explained her story. Everything, from Uther’s persecution of her kind, to her fleeing. Trying to find her sister, discovering she was in Camelot, and attempting to save her.
‘I only ever wanted Magic legalised, and my sister safe, your Majesty.’ Morgause remarked, inclining her head to the Once and Future King. She waited for his verdict, to find out whether or not she’d be sent to the pyre.
The King looked to Merlin, like it was normal to ask a servant’s opinion.
‘She’s been persecuted, Sire. We can trust her.’
‘We’ll have words later, about you harbouring criminals. For now, Lady Morgause, you’re welcome in Camelot.’ He said the words with a frown, but the slightest hint of acceptance on his face. Considering Magic was still technically illegal, it was more than she’d expected. Morgana was smiling, took a step forward, before halting.
Morgause curtseyed to the King, then looked to her sister.
‘I will prove to you, sister, that I mean you no harm. None of you.’ She amended, and Arthur sighed.
‘Merlin will show you to your Chambers.’ The girl didn’t hesitate, brushed aside the Knights and came to Morgause’s side with a bright grin.
**
The sun had set, and Morgause had been ready for bed, when the knock at the door sounded. She flicked the door open with Magic, Merlin coming in without hesitation and shutting the door behind her.
‘How are you settling in?’ Camelot was a strange place. Gossip spread fast, but none of the servants seemed hesitant of her. Her sister had stopped by to greet her, with her serving girl close behind. One of the Knights, Sir Leon, had apologised for the arrow he embedded in her side. Gaius, the Court Physician (and Merlin’s Uncle) had asked if she needed medical attention, to which she’d replied that Merlin had healed her.
‘Camelot’s… odd.’ Morgause traced the edge of the bed, far fancier than anything she’d ever had before. A definite change from Hunith’s bed, back in Ealdor.
‘That’s the spirit.’ Merlin joked, eyes turning gold as she lit the fire with her Magic. It was comforting, to know that it was a secret shared. Merlin had only told Morgana and a Knight named Sir Lancelot, apparently. Gaius knew as well, but Morgause felt honoured to be trusted.
‘Did the King berate you for harbouring me?’ Morgause quipped, feeling oddly exposed in her nightgown. Merlin came across, reached for her hair like she would have done back in Ealdor. Morgause settled down on the bed, allowing the Witch to take the braid out.
‘A little. Told me off for picking up strays.’ That made them both chuckle, before Morgause realised that she hadn't laughed in such a long time.
‘Your laugh’s nice.’ Merlin mumbled. She turned to stare at the younger, found the woman blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.
Merlin had done all of this for her, and expected nothing in return. Nothing, but Morgause wanted to give something.
They weren’t alone anymore, they had each other to share the secret burden of Magic.
She reached out slowly, cupping Merlin’s cheek and watching the way the girl chewed on her lip. They were sitting close, Merlin’s knee brushing against her thigh, and Morgause studied her. If she did this, there would be no time to regret it.
Merlin made the decision for her, tilting in until their lips were brushing, the slightest touch sending shivers down to the base of her spine. Emboldened, Morgause reached for Merlin’s hand, tugging her closer. The girl squeaked, but obeyed, kept their lips pressed together as she moved closer.
It felt perfect. Her Magic reached up, set every inch of her skin alight with the power it held. A strange pressure closed around her, unfamiliar, yet nothing she objected to. Merlin’s Magic, so different to her own, yet just as powerful.
Shy hands were cradling her face, slipping back into her hair and drifting to the back of her neck, Morgause slowly turning to face her. Merlin’s body yielded, lowering back to the soft mattress while Morgause chased the plush lips. The Witch tasted sweet, made a sinful sound that Morgause swallowed down as she settled between Merlin’s thighs.
When she pulled back, the both of them were panting for air. Merlin’s hair was spread out in a mess across the sheets, black compared to her blonde, and Morgause traced the edge of her cheek.
‘Stay the night?’ Merlin’s smile was stunning, had Morgause’s heart skipping a beat.
‘Of course.’ She took Morgause’s hand, linked their fingers together by the side of Merlin’s head.
‘My Faeling.’ Morgause muttered, unsure where the emotion had come from, but quite positive that she wanted it. Merlin ducked away, cheeks ablaze, but she looked pleased.
She could get used to Camelot, she decided.