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Merlin couldn’t celebrate the feast of Beltane. Not this time. There was something else in the air, a presence and a power that dragged his attention away from his friends. The others were deep in their cups in celebration of the arrival of summer on the morrow. They didn’t notice as he left, but Merlin was careful none-the-less. The very air was thick with magic tonight, and Merlin could feel power throbbing along his veins with every beat of the earth’s heart.
The cold still clung to the air, but it was quickly losing its battle with the summer winds and no longer held its refreshing bite. There was a magic in the air that had nothing to do with spells and Merlin’s step was light with a joy he couldn’t understand, and didn’t want to try. He walked into the forest at Camelot’s gate and felt the shivers as the energies raced along his skin. He took off his jacket and shirt and folded them neatly, tucking them under the tree that nestled between two halves of a broken rock that was known as “The Reacher Tree” because the limbs stretched up high into the sky, much taller than any of the surrounding trees. It was a landmark he could find even in the dark. The energy coursed along his limbs and he started to run, feeling the night air hold tight to his body as he flew across the forest floor in the bright white moonlight. After some time, he came across a stream, lit silver and sparkling through the dappled moonlight across the leaves and earth under his feet. Taking two great strides, he leapt across it in the joy of his run and heard several giggles. Merlin stopped his run and turned, coming back around to spy three tiny being sitting on a rock beside the stream he’d just leapt over. The fey folk giggled and Merlin blushed and crossed himself.
“Alright then?” The middle fey spread her wings and flew up to his face, fluttering about in wordless giggles like the sound of thin water over smooth river stones. She pointed downstream and her wings brushed his cheek as he turned, and it felt like a snowflake had fallen. The sparkling stream flowed down deeper into the forest and Merlin felt a magical pull to follow it. He turned back, but the three were gone. Try as he could, Merlin had felt no malice from the three, and so he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the night air and cooling his steaming chest before he took off again. He felt primal and powerful for the first time in months, feeling himself filling with the power of the night, and the creek pulled him onwards deep into the darkness of the forest until he felt the earth sloping down sharply and hardening. He stopped, panting to catch his breath as he listened to the water fall into the pool below. The moonlight shone over his shoulder down into the inky blackness of the pool below. Old candles and lumps of melted wax lay scattered about under the silver gaze of the moon. Warm air breathed past him and a figure moved out from the waterfall below him, her pale body smooth and unlined in the waters. Merlin’s heart didn’t slow its rapid beat as he stared down at her, and she turned in the water and ran a handful of crushed petals over her shoulder, rubbing the oils into her skin. The maiden sang forlornly to herself, but aside from the resonating music of her tones, he couldn’t make out any clear words over the rush of the water into the well. She reminded him of Freya and Merlin stood up suddenly, casting his shadow over the pool. The woman whirled around and lashed a hand out and Merlin was suddenly jerked forwards towards the pool. He landed on his feet in the water and pushed a force around him to soften the blow magically. He looked up and moved forward, but it was not Freya who had lashed out at him.
Morgana stared, dripping wet as he froze where he was. Her bare breasts pointed out towards him, covered in rose petals still as they locked eyes. Her green met his blue, but there wasn’t the usual shock of power and challenge to her gaze this time. She didn’t speak, but clearly waited for him to attack, which he didn’t. She looked not even angry, but simply resigned. She shook her head slightly as she stared at him, before her eyes dropped to his chest and then away. Merlin straightened and waited, and Morgana crossed her arms in front of her, covering herself suddenly.
“Merlin. I didn’t know it would be you.” He stared at her, not wanting to let his growing lust get the better of him. He kept her face in his eyes diligently, but even that was dangerous. In the moonlight, her pale beauty and sadness struck him and he found himself looking at her as he used to, not as an enemy, but as a woman of ethereal beauty. If he let it, his heart would have grovelled for her. But he couldn’t let it. He couldn’t let her in.
“What do you mean?” His voice was steady even as his hands shook. Morgana shrugged one shoulder and Merlin swallowed hard as her hair slid down to curl about her breast like ink on canvas.
“I’m the May Queen, Merlin. Chosen by the Aos Si. You’re the Green Man. It’s why you’re here.” Merlin straightened, thrown off by the resignation in her voice. Gone was her usual vitriol, her sneer and defiant snarl. This was a completely different Morgana. This wasn’t his enemy.
“The Aos Si are emboldened with a sense of humour, it seems. You’re hardly sacrificial.” Her eyes hardened into their usual fire for a moment.
“I do what a High Priestess must. No more. No less.” Merlin looked away, unable to withstand the sight of her, fire eyed and powerful, topless and covered in the settling dew of the Beltane night. The energy still coursing through his veins was needing release, and he tried to keep it in, but his breath was panting in the air. Morgana eyed him watchfully through her hair. It had a life of its own, her hair. Black curls that would tumble through wanting fingers shone blue black in the moonlight and Merlin couldn’t help the soft moan of desire. Her eyes widened and then she looked away demurely.
“Is this a spell?” His voice was no longer steady, but hoarse with the power of his control. Morgana tilted her head to the side and an errant curl licked her neck. Merlin growled.
“It’s Beltane. It’s what’s supposed to be, regardless of what we want.” She swallowed as she stared at Merlin, moving towards her slowly through the dark water. “Or thought we didn’t want.” She lifted a hand from the water, dripping in the Beltane air and sparkling like magic in the moonlight and beckoned to him silently. Merlin moved through the water to her and her hands spread out on his chest. Her breath slipped into his mouth as she gave quiet little moments to her fracturing control and she lifted her head. Merlin stared at her, so close to kissing her that he almost didn’t stop in time. He looked from her lips to her eyes and Morgana blushed as she lifted a hand and touched it to his lips, silencing him for a moment.
“All that we have been and all that we shall be are forgotten for this night. This is a night most holy to the Old Religion. There must be nothing between us, Merlin.” His lips spread against her finger in a tender kiss and somehow he managed to shake his head and close his eyes, pulling back from that power that flickered between the two of them, begging to be joined.
“There’s never BEEN anything between us,” he lied. She knew it, and her lips smiled at him knowingly. It was almost too much, seeing her coy gaze. Beneath the dark water, he was responding to the magic swirling around them. The cloughtie well that held them exulted at their shattering control and he could almost hear the power around them laugh in glee as her lips reached up to his.
“I won’t fight this, Merlin. Not tonight.”
Words ceased and they began; skin against skin as she sank against him, melding their bodies together with the droplets of water from the well. Writhing need met unopened want as they fought one another to the grassy edge of the pond and down into the clean loam. Endlessly they fell into one another until Morgana reached down, tearing off Merlin’s pants with hands aching to score his own pale skin, so much like hers. He hit her thigh and she stopped, pressing her hand against his length in wonder at his desire. Merlin kissed her softly, a strangely gentle connection in the chaotic swirl of the power around them. Morgana nosed his chin and tilted her head, guiding him into her slowly and gently. Merlin gasped and began to shiver as he slid inside of her, and Morgana softly cooed to him in assurance. After a moment, they began to move again. Endlessly, they fell into one another until both lay spent, arms and legs askew carelessly in the tangled aftermath.
Morning crested over the bubbling edge of the waterfall that was the creek Merlin had followed, shining light into his eyes through the bright greens of the canopy. Morgana slipped away, dressed again in her black lace and bare feet. He watched her move about, gathering herself until she moved towards the trees.
“Morgana.” He barely breathed her name, but the sorceress turned about, green meeting blue again. She smiled at him wanly, companionably.
“Such gentleness, Merlin.” She stared at him as he raised himself up on his elbows, a lost longing in his eyes as he stared at her with unopened hurt held deep in him. She darted back to the reclining warlock and kissed him once, on the lips with such intimacy that he barely had time to register the soft touch of her hair on his face and then she was gone, into the trees and vanishing as he stared forlornly after her.
“What have you done to me?”
A month later, Merlin sat in his room, readying himself for bed. He was freshly bathed and had worked hard as he did every day, but as usual nowadays, he couldn’t sleep. There wasn’t anything different about his life, it simply seemed empty. Arthur bumbled along and Gwen simpered after him and Merlin callously considered leaving. Nothing seemed to be as it should be. The Druids still suffered under the barely lamented Uther’s archaic laws and Arthur showed no signs of repealing them. Merlin looked up at the sky and sighed as he tried to lay down and fall to sleep. The stars usually brought him peace, but not lately. Nothing seemed to bring him peace except his dreams, which brought him torment. Laughing green eyes and hair that smelled of rose oil drowned him again and again, out of reach and simply engulfing him, but despite the torment and want, to at least see them and feel them around his dreaming fingers for a moment was better than the aching that was his days now. Above him, the black swallowed the stars as something dark moved against it, blotting out the bright points of light momentarily until a raven seemed to materialize out of the night and land on the end of his bed. Merlin sat up with a soundless gasp and the raven leaned over to the side and tapped its beak on the metal brace on its leg.
Merlin reached forward and pulled it off, unravelling the scroll with trembling fingers, feeling the magic seeping into him from the parchment message.
“The Grove. Midnight.” Merlin looked up, but the raven had already alighted to the windowsill above him. The black eyes seemed to smile at him as he threw the covers off the bed and started to get dressed.
With the moon high in the sky, he raced out and into the forest, heedless of the guards that called his name as he fled the stale stones of Camelot.
∞₸∞
Crashing through the forest, as soon as his eyes lit on the softly flowing creek, Merlin gave a frenzied laugh and raced along, following it downstream. He leapt from the waterfall and dove into the water, feeling the hot air race away in the still cold water. On the sure, Morgana laughed at his boyish smile and confusedly frowned all the same. He stared at her with such unadulterated joy that it hurt, and she clasped her hands in front of her, under her green cloak. Merlin came up out of the water, dripping wet and enveloped her in his arms. Morgana squealed as she threw back her hood and he went to kiss her, droplets spraying all over her and making her laugh harder. Merlin stared at her with a half-smile on his face as she recovered, and her bright smile faded.
“I’ve missed you.” Morgana had sent the raven, but now, with Merlin in front of her and so obviously happy to be there, her nerve faltered. She’d thought to talk to him, to perhaps try and gain an ally, but his infectious happiness held to her like his arms, and his smile lit her like she couldn’t believe. She shook her head and covered his lips in her fingertips, which he kissed. Morgana stared at him, trying to calm her giddy excitement. This was her enemy, she reminded herself. Merlin kissed her fingers again and she moved her hand away from his face, putting her fingertips on her chest.
“No words, Merlin. Please. I can’t… give me that at least.” Merlin nodded slowly and reached up and held her face in his hands as he kissed her. She threw her cloak off her shoulders and her arms looped around his neck, pulling him down into her kiss. Merlin let her pull him down onto the grass and rolled over, letting her lay on top of him as the kiss lengthened. The midnight moon bathed them again as their clothes fell away from them and Morgana clasped his hands above his head. Slowly she leaned down, breathing lightning across his skin and watching how he wanted her. Merlin surged upwards and held her to him as she moaned, feeling him moving against her. Morgana pushed herself up on her knees and slid down, feeling him moan against her chest as her hands gripped his hair and squeezed.
After they made love, Morgana again got up to leave. Merlin snagged her wrist as she held her lace dress to herself, leaves in her hair and the rasp of his growing beard showing clearly in the red of her pale skin.
“Stay,” he begged. When she looked him gently in the face, he blushed. Delightedly, she tilted her head to the side and considered him.
“Why?” Merlin opened his mouth, even as he lost the thought. He tried again, several times, before helplessly resorting to entreating her with his eyes alone. “What is this to you, Merlin?” The warlock shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to contain his emotions. But he was feeling the storm that swept through him too much, and Morgana knelt beside him.
“I don’t care what it is. I just… please.” Morgana didn’t meet his eye but stared at some point beyond his shoulder. She couldn’t meet his eyes. The gentle need in them was too much for her to simply discount.
“I thought you would have told Arthur.” He shook his head in confusion at the King’s name. Morgana felt a thrill run through her at the realisation that this was between them and none other.
“Not everything is about him,” Merlin insisted, searching for her face. Morgana let him see how that made her feel before closing herself off from him. It was better that way. To not trust that he would be there for her. To trust only herself. She was her own strength, her past tears standing her firm against the world. But this Merlin had given himself to her, had gently held her in the night and whispered her name pleasingly in his sleep. She owed him the truth, at least. It would cost her nothing other than the breath to say it.
“I’m not who you see, Merlin. I’m not really who you think I am. Or who you’re wishing I am.” He leant back at that, but didn’t let go of her hand. Morgana pulled away and this time, he didn’t reach out for her. Grimly satisfied but still deeply crushed, Morgana stood over him and threw her hair over her shoulder as she dressed quickly, and swirled her robe about her. The only mark of their encounter that could be seen was the slight red rash about her face where he’d kissed her so intently.
“You’re never out of my thoughts, Morgana.” He stood behind her, naked and pale in the moonlight giving way to daybreak through the canopy. His arms came about her and she shook her head mutely, even as he stepped around in front of her and lifted her pained face in his fingertips.
“Don’t…” she commanded, but he didn’t listen and kissed her, succulently grasping at her soft lips and moaning in need against her, a need not born of the sensuality they shared, but of the intimacy of just her lips on his. Her eyes opened and she stared up at him as he slowed the kiss regretfully, a lost smile on his face.
“Nor you from mine,” she whispered as she pulled out from his embrace.
When he opened his eyes, she was gone.