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Chapter Text

When the great Queen Guinevere closed her eyes for the last time, her heart was filled with melancholia.

How very bittersweet, this life.

Someone who came from a humble background like herself could appreciate just how selfish it was to complain in her position. But on the other hand, it was exactly because she had experienced more than most royal that she could say with her full chest: what a waste.

Looking back, what had she accomplished? Not even diving into personal struggle just yet. But the kingdom, her ruling? Heaven forbid, the magic?

She was departing this life, not even having fully digested the secret of the one whom she considered her best friend. Merlin, his hand in hers at her deathbed, whispering all kinds of long dead secrets in a deep voice. Like he needed to get these forgotten stories out of his chest- like he wasn't really talking to her in particular.

Was he looking for absolution? Had he been carrying all this guilt, all these troubles, alone for years- and now at the end everything was escaping uncontrollably? How strange, to think that she mustn't have known him at all.

Her consciousness was barely keeping her in this word and she hadn't even been able to answer. She'd just let the flow of confessions wash away on her as she was dying, mulling over what has been and what hasn't.

Could she even blame him, considering. The naïve girl that could have feel betrayed by theses lies was long gone; time having both melted her impulsive temper and sharpened her disillusion. What could he have gain from honesty back then? It was easy now to think she would have had help, understood, listen. Stop things from snowballing to this tragic degree. But would she had? She wasn't even sure what to make of it all now.

If the enormity of what Merlin was saying was astounding, it was not shocking to hear he hadn't been truthful. He was always a secretive man. Everyone who'd care could notice that much. Maybe she should have pushed for more, when they were younger, and not let him isolate himself. Lost in her own struggles, she missed a lot- perhaps she could have done more.

She felt like the years had gone by in a strange haze. She lived her life in quiet mourning of the late King, put in a position of power she wasn't sure what to make of now that she was alone, and her best friend turned out to be a stranger. As for magic...

Magic. A sensitive, terrible subject. One that certainly made some things resurface.

And so, her last coherent thought were surprising to her. It was a name and a face, one that had not graced her mind since a terribly long time.

(One, she had conscientiously chosen not to think of any more.)

A stunning woman, before she was ravaged by grief and anger and loss and before she changed so much that she could have become someone else altogether. Long dark hair, pale grey eyes, looking regal and full of confidence in one of her glamorous dress.

Morgana... The strength of the memories hitting her was almost too much to bear.

If among the mess that everything had been she could pinpoint one true regret, it was her. She hoped the woman had found some sort of peace at her passing. How she wished that things turned differently.

And so for the last moments of her life Gwen, once a humble servant and latter on a widowed queen, let herself be fully enveloped by regret and past memories and one overwhelming idea: Oh, how I wish I could have one more chance to make things right.

In the quiet of the room, her hand that was still clasped into Merlin's sparkled with a mysterious glow.

Be careful of what you wish for was always a popular adage. But opening her eyes in her old quarter, Gwen felt like laughing with euphoria for hours.

This couldn't be happening?

Walking in her room and savouring how painless her younger body allowed this movement, nothing felt real. Was this a dream? A vision before death came for her? Was this heaven? Yet from the smell of metal heated by the forge lingering around, to the feel of the fabric on her skin, everything felt grounded.

“I'm back...” she muttered to herself, her voice soft in the empty room. “I can't believe it, how could this...?”

Her young body, the noise of her dad (alive, alive, alive) snoring in the other room. Fresh flowers on a drawers in memory of her late mother, as they used to do. Some of Elyan's stuff in the way but no sign of his presence. Was this when he suddenly left to travel and they didn't have time to put them away yet?

When was it? What year?

Gwen was not the most pious of woman, but this had the feel of a true miracle. And Lord forbid if by any chance this was real well- she would take this opportunity with both hands and not let it go. No matter the cost.

And now. What should she do- what could she do? Her brain couldn't process the situation yet, let alone the mix of feelings she was lost into.

But drowning her confusion with decisive action was something of a specialty of hers, and avoiding suspicion (and an impromptu pyre) was in first order. Acting insane never bode well in Uther Pendragon's domain.

Half in trance, she took the familiar path to the castle.

The view was both similar to the country she remembered dying in and completely different. This one bakery, closed for years. This one smiling washerwoman, dead in an attack. This tree, this flower path, so close yet so foreign- she hadn't noticed all the little changes that had slowly morphed her kingdom over time.

Going back inside the walls of the castle was no better. It was as if someone put all the furniture in the room an inch to the left: everything looked about the same, but felt deeply wrong.

And having to act as a servant again after all these years was strange. The chores, the routine, fragment of memories remained but her gestures were rusty and lacked the smoothness she knew she had back then. Still, some thing you never forget, no matter how many years on a throne you spent.

Meeting the other servants again was probably the biggest hassle yet. She was lost on conversation she didn't remember, gossip that were long acted and gone in her head, and so she avoided awkwardly as many interactions as she could.

(Speaking informally with people again came to her easily. Would it be foolish to admit how strangely comforting it was to go back to this? Her political opponents would have been delighted to hear that her old ways truly would come back in a heartbeat. The great Queen Guinevere, always a commoner at heart.)

Before Merlin came along she couldn't say that she had true friends amongst the staff, but she was on good terms with most of them and she knew they were puzzled by her evasive behaviour. She didn't think they suspected anything nefarious, merely having caught her in a bad day. She would have to find her footing back as soon as possible.

But after the first part of the morning gone, at least one thing was certain: said mysterious boy had yet to come to Camelot. The timeline was becoming clearer. Between her mother's death -and her brother's following departure- and Merlin's arrival.

On a parallel but not unrelated note, Arthur was currently a true brat- and that was a kind description. She'd sincerely forgotten how bad it used to be.

It had been so jarring to hear the voice of the man she had missed so sincerely- only for him to be terrorizing a poor serving boy with an improvised training exercise. She knew that time and grief had softened her memories of him but, to such a degree?

After the joy that sparked at hearing his voice, she felt a sharp disappointment.

It was probably unfair to feel like this. This young boy and her late husband were different people and life would bring the good in Arthur eventually. And there were so much good to bring out; Merlin had just been the catalyser that Arthur needed to shine brightly.

It would take time, but the incredible man he could become had always been here. Deep down. Even if now he was busy throwing utensil at a despairing servant who had the poor idea to be in the way of him and his group of knights today.

But truth be told, she could admit this one thing to herself: after her mourning, and after the years have past, she could never imagine chasing the man romantically again. The Arthur she had loved with sincerity had died. She had years to move on, despite feeling his absence, and so she did. And if this was their new chance at life, well.

Maybe the both of them deserved to build different dreams this time around.

She wondered if it was foolish to hope that despite their difference in status they could still become friends in this timeline. Because despite it all, how she missed that annoying, courageous, pompous and kind man. Just catching a glimpse of his face outside had made her emotive.

Yet she knew she was stalling an even bigger royal confrontation. She didn't know where to find the courage to do it. But she would have to, right? Being late would be worst in the end.

Time to face the woman that she forced herself to forget. One that caused her and the city so much harm. One that was first hurt so brutaly by the inflexible law of King Uther, and by betrayal, and by life. One that once upon a time she respected so much...

She needed to see her. She needed to gather the strength. Come on Gwen, you can open this door!

But no amount of self-induced courage could have prepared her for the sight of her again.

Oh, Morgana. Seeing her face for the first time in decades made something snap inside Gwen's mind. Like the cotton atmosphere that was around her since she didn't-actually-die disappeared.

She suddenly knew with acute certainty: she really had gone back in time, this all was real.

“Gwen, you're finally here!” Greyish, blueish pale eyes were fixed on her as she entered the room. The woman had a book in hands and was seated in the middle of her room. She made an inquisitive movement of her head, seemingly worried at Gwen's unusually silence. “Is there a problem?”

She sounded so kind. She always did, back then. She remembered her kindness from when she started working in the castle. A noble lady that let her call her by her given name in private, that cared for her well-being.

Ready to fight for justice, outraged at the way her own father passed, emphatic toward the suffering. Oh Lord, when had it shifted so drastically? What made everything crumble?

Facing her now Gwen felt her heart rise and break a thousand times in a few seconds, unable to settle on what to feel.

“I...” The breakdown should way. It should and could. “I feel a bit under the weather today, my Lady. Please forgive my tardiness.”

“Oh dear, it's no issue” she frowned, concerned. “I won't mind if you go back home and rest. You really don't look well.”

“No, no!” she forced a smile, hoping it looked less artificial than it felt. “I'll be better in no time, truly.” She picked up a brush on the vanity. Methodical task like hair-brushing would help her calm down anyway.

Since Lady Morgana didn't looked convinced, she added quietly “I'd feel better with you here than alone at home.” And quieter, even if it could pass as a light jab. “I would miss you.”

“You're sweet, Gwen.” She sounded sincerely touched. “Just don't push yourself too much, okay? You always work so hard.”

In the comfortable silence that took place afterward Gwen brushed Lady Morgana's hair. The gestures came back to her instantly, as natural as breathing. A routine from a time long gone; peaceful and full of a quiet intimacy.

How'd she miss the simple joy of these moments. How'd she miss Morgana- the true Morgana. It wasn't too late, right? She could change everything. Whatever had caused her to be back here, it was clearly a sign that things could have gone in a different direction. 

For Morgana, for Arthur. For Merlin and for magic users as a whole. Surely there was a way forward paved with less pain. 

She didn't know how yet but... time to make the most of her second chance at life.

Chapter Text

The noises of her father's hammer hitting the hot iron in the forge in the evening had always been soothing for her. Forging swords was an art that he was a true master at, and thankfully, he never saw an issue with sharing it with his daughter.

He had been reluctant to teach her how to fight like he did for her older brother. But he eventually did this too. And Gwen knew she had been lucky to be born in a family that allowed her this much, even if this was with self-defence in mind.

It was a side of her that she sometimes had lost sight of. A maid for years and years, what use was a sword? She couldn't say it was something she had pursued much in her past life. Had this been a mistake, it was hard to say. She liked her job as Morgana's servant. She didn't think walking a more bloodthirsty path would help anyone.

But in a very selfish way... she wished she had more memories with her father. And, she took pride in the skills that she had. Wouldn't it be nice to reconnect with him through this? What harm could it cause? The future would be full of hardship no matter what she did.

Joining him outside in silence, she could see how tense her father was. Since her mother died... since Elyan's abrupt departure... things had not been easy here. Thankfully she made enough money in the castle for them not to be in real trouble, but she sometimes felt angry at how careless her brother had been when leaving.

Did he think they didn't feel anything, too? Why didn't he allow their family to go through this together? He only thought of his own pain and needs, and left them like it was nothing.

Of course now she knew he would come back- that he would learn and change for the better after his journey. But she had no way of knowing that back then, and spent many evening in sad contemplation.

Ah, she wouldn't waste the next couple of years worrying for nothing at least.

“Gwen, did you need something?” her father voice was light, but tired. Gwen would need a lot more time for hearing him not to make her emotional, his death surprisingly fresh still in her mind. It had been years since she had felt like a child like this.

“It's been a while since I was in the forge with you.” Since her mother felt sick and she busied herself taking care of her, really. “I just miss it.” I just missed you, dad.

The man had stop his motion, eyebrows raised and a grin slowly emerging on his face. Could it be that he missed these moments together too? She couldn't remember him evoking it in any way back in her first life.

“You...” he paused a little. “You won't be too tired for work tomorrow if we mess around the swords this late?” he sounded like he didn't want to scream victory too soon.

“Not at all! And lady Morgana is very kind.” Well, for now. “She never push me too hard.”

“Sound like a miracle, this lady you found.” He was smiling openly now. It looked like a weight had been removed from his shoulders. “C'm here, daughter mine. Let see what you remember.”

She needn't have worried about how she would manage the forge after all this time. The work was written in her veins, and muscle memory immediately got her back on the right track.

Her father stay behind her, offering help and little commentary. They didn't exchange much over than that. But basking in the moment, Gwen could savour his presence and the peacefulness of the night.

She went to sleep later than she usually would but didn't feel any regret. She promised to herself to to it again whenever she could. The forge, the swords, time spent with family- what other thing had she left behind without thinking much of it the first time around?

The more she thought about her life as a queen, and the path leading to it, the more her heart spiked with pain. She feel asleep with sorrowful reminiscence and didn't rest much at all.

“It's such a shame!” the washerwomen walking alongside her was called Laura. She was a brunette with a serious penchant for gossiping. Gwen remembered her more than most other worker in the castle, for she was always seen talking and smiling even in the most trying time. For all her faults, Gwen admired the strength of her spirit. “So soon and yet another pyre being built. Will these damn sorcerers ever stop?”

“Another pyre...” what was even there to add. In the light of everything she learnt and thought about recently, Gwen felt a new emotion take other the rest: resentment. Anger against one hypocritical king.

To turn the public opinion so thoroughly against magic user that even a illness healing too quickly could grant you death, how insane. When she thought about the accusations that one time fell other her, her friends, her dad...! She had felt for Arthur pain, but she would be hard pressed to feel empathy for Uther Pendragon again.

“Yes, another one! It had barely been a week, can you believe it? How hard could it be to stay away from Camelot.” She scoff, readjusting the laundry basket in her arm. “The girl doesn't look old at all, it's a waste all around.”

It was a mixture of ignorance and detachment that you'd often hear from the population. It didn't came from actual hatred- or at least, Gwen didn't think so. Some were just so convinced that magic user where the bane of all there problem that they were happy enough to blame them for everything; from bad weather to hitting your toe on the table.

And even if they disagree, saying as much would grant them a place of choice next to them in the fire. Being openly critical of magic was often simply an act of pure self-preservation. It was also for this reason that Gwen would keep her mouth sealed shut on the issue for now.

Working quietly along the other servant, she was getting lost in her thoughts. How would she work toward a better Camelot without losing her own head in the process? A servant's word wasn't worth anything, let alone a woman's.

Much as she disliked the position of Queen, the power it gave her was something she missed. How easy it was to forget what it felt like to be powerless. She pretty much depended on Morgana's good will for now.

Ah, talking to the lady was like talking to a ghost. She was so kind, so pretty, so much like Gwen remembered her before it all that it was painful. The woman full of hatred that she became near the end... she wouldn't allow that to happen again.

Beside, if it was anyone it would be worthwhile to share doubt about sorcerer’s sentences for now, it would be her. Even before Morgana came into contact with magic she had been defiantly open for their cause. Perhaps hearing Gwen taking their side would push her to open up? It was a gamble she felt like taking.

And most importantly, she would have to talk to Merlin. The young man would soon came to the castle, she was sure of it. And she would not allow him to turn bitter and lonely either.

She missed him terribly. Both Arthur and Morgana, she had mourned for so many years that seeing them (especially so changed) felt barely real- but Merlin was different. She hadn't remembered how lonely she felt in the castle before he came along.

He mustn't be far now. It would be a question of week.

While walking back inside the castle from her errand, she crossed path with a pale women restrained by two guards. There where tears rolling down her cheek. It must be sorceress going to her death...

Feeling nauseous, Gwen hastened her steps. It would be hard to stomach the executions to come, for this one surely wouldn't be the last she would have to witness.

Arthur had been more forgiving than his father. Towards common people he was merciful, and toward sorcerers he didn't actively seek harm. But years after years, his distrust of magic had only grew. He never lifted the ban. Perhaps he would have change his mind, given the time...

Gwen had eventually forgo the death penalty during her reign. But she never did much more for magic in particular. And it was as if over the years, trace of it were slowly disappearing. When she died it had been years since the last huge magic event, let alone an attack on Camelot. Never in her life had she seen a dragon again, and never had the druids came near the castle again.

Was it the natural course of thing, or had the violence of the purge been too much to bear for magic itself?

Troubled, she kept walking to Morgana chamber. The lady was watching the window with a distasteful expression on her face.

“How barbaric.” She said. “What could that poor girl have done to justify this?” She must been the only person on the whole kingdom to be able to get away with expressing such sentiment so freely.

“Indeed, it is such a brutal way to die.” Gwen agreed in return. She had never been so open about it in the past, but it was known that she was a gentle soul. Without supporting magic, empathy in face of violence wasn’t out of characters.

“I'm glad to hear that.” Lady Morgana had turned to face her, still wearing a complicated look on her face. “I feel like going I'm insane sometimes, being alone to see how wrong this all is. Look at them cheering.” Her pale eyes were full of thunder “They are just a bunch of brutes.”

“They feel like they are doing good to Camelot.” Gwen added pensively. “They don't see other way than to follow the law.” Was that too forward? Not enough? She wishes it was as simple as screaming to Morgana: Look, I'm on your side. I'll support you and your magic.

“They don't have any heart, more like.” Morgana scoffed. “Even Arthur, as dumb as he is, doesn't go to see theses macabre show.”

It was strange to think that Morgana didn't know that Arthur was his brother yet. Oh, she didn't know about Morgause either. Gwen herself had no clue of the specific of it; she would have to write down whatever she could remember to organize this mess in her head. This wouldn't be fun.

Morgana then shook her head before smiling lightly:

“I'm not going to bother you with all this Gwen, it's not you I'm mad at. But Uther is never going to hear me out about all this I'm afraid.”

“My lady...” And she didn't know how right she was. Never was the dreaded king going to open his heart. “Don't hesitate to speak to me. I feel like like many lack your wisdom in these time, and I always like to hear your thoughts.”

“Flatterer!” She laugh. “You can just ask me if you need something, you know i'd never refuse you a thing.” She looked amused- this little interaction had appeased her for now. “You've been suspiciously nice these last few days.”

“Are you insinuating I'm usually unpleasant?” Gwen shot back while raising her eyebrows.

“That's more like it.” Morgana smirked. “Could you help me tie this dress in the back? I'd like to go on a walk, I need to clear my head.”

“Of course, my Lady.” Gwen went up to her.

“I already told you I don't mind if you call my Morgana in private.” She said while holding her hair up with her hand, allowing Gwen to tie the lace more easily. Gwen simply hummed in response.

It was so nice to talk to her like that again. Really, every passing moment was stroking the fire of hope burning in Gwen's chest.

Was it wrong of her to have so quickly crossed off her past life? She was bemused at the speed at which she was moving forward. But wrong or not... she was more decided than ever.

Chapter Text

Words around the castle was that Lady Helen would soon make an appearance. The cooks were quietly organizing for the banquet, the maids were looking for dresses most adequate for their Ladies, and the knights excessive zeal had allowed for the capture of another poor soul of a magic user.

And Gwen was worrying. Now this banquet, she remembered.

Lady Helen's banquet... where Helen herself was already long dead. The one where Arthur almost died, Merlin had saved him, and the rest was history. But how to be sure that it would go the same if she started to go off script? Would she endanger her ex-husband by trying to get a head-start on fate?

She didn't even remembered what she did the first time! Anything but the major events were foggy and forgotten, no way she could do the same things even if she wanted to. She just had to pray that everything would turn out fine.

Merlin wouldn't let Arthur die no matter the situation. Right? Gwen could feel the sweat building up.

But far from her inner struggles, the women around her were loudly talking:

“I heard they're not even going to built a pyre. They're going to chop his head off!” the girl speaking was a new-hire, wide eyed and innocent. The idea of a public execution seemed to both repulse and intrigue her.

“Of course they're not going to build a pyre, we need to save up wood for the banquet.” Laura retorted, much more blasé about this whole thing. “And the King want to make a small appearance too so this way will be easier. Must want to quiet down the rise of magic crimes there's been lately.”

“I see...” the young girl was looking troubled, and Gwen felt like adding something:

“Don't worry too much about these things. It's to make a clear example, that's all there is to it. Don't get into your head that you need to go see this.”

The girl nodded but stayed silent a while before changing subject. There was no helping it with how morbid the topic was. And Gwen was sure that no matter what she said, curiosity would win out the young maid and that she would go see the execution.

After all, Gwen herself had already seen such a brutal death in Camelot. One day or another you couldn't escape it.

And in face of it you'd feel paralysed. Your eye could not turn from the vision. It was a mix of strange fascination of horror that was hard to explain but powerful enough that these execution crowd never were empty, no matter the crime.

Gwen certainly wouldn't go to this one. She would skip as many as she could, like she did last time around. An awful amount of guilt regarding her inaction was already starting to eat at her and she didn't need to face it head-first. Not for now.

But as she busied herself working far from the deadly event, and later in the night, comforting Lady Morgana after an argument with her “guardian” about said execution...

(“Why is he acting as if the word didn't exist before his barbaric cleansing of magic? He refuses to listen to anyone! I'll accepted that I don't have all the answers, but I am not a clueless child!”

“Do not loose heart, my Lady. He may be blinded by his own views, but I hope one day he'll be ready to actually listen to what you are saying.”

“Lord, I wonder if such a thing may even be possible anymore.”)

...a peculiar young boy had entered Camelot.

Looking at the window the morning of the next day, a now familiar, unpleasant, sight was here to greet her. Arthur tormenting the poor boy in his service. He was going as far as throwing knifes at him! Could she intervene? Should she?

Would he listen, would it makes things worst? She was closing her fists in anger. Was he truly this bad in the past? It would not stop to shock her. The memories of her kind husband must have made her erased some of the most unfortunate ones.

And she was certain that this was just the only way he knew how to make friend. Acting up like this- wasn't it only to impress the gallery of stupid knight that were following him like dogs? It was a bit pathetic, but moreso sad that he had to put up a persona to feel less alone.

It was no mystery why Merlin had mattered so much to him so fast: a lonely prince starved for genuine connection meeting someone like him, it was a perfect match. And today, leaning on her window, finally watching Merlin humble him for the second first time of his life was no less endearing.

But she didn't really follow what was said. She was taken by the sight of this younger Merlin, free from all the stress and hardship he had been carrying in her time. The comparison was staggering. Had he changed so gradually for her not to have notice? Because she knew years from now, all trace of this carefree smile would be gone.

They had all changed and grow over the years. She'd like to think most of it was for the better. But for Merlin... she wished on all her soul that he wouldn't have had to suffer as much. Like Morgana, he went through much more than he should have.

She eventually snapped from her melancholia to see Arthur catching Merlin by the hand, answering a most likely sarcastic remark:

“...No, I'm his son. Arthur.” And with a smirk and the help of a guard, gone was the meddling boy. He would most likely be found at the pillory the next day, as per usual.

What a bittersweet thing to remember. In a stupid way, this symbolised simpler times: their troubles were but a handful of rotten fruits.

Arthur was putting up a front outside, laughing still with his friends at the idiot who dared to interrupt them. But Gwen knew him enough to see he was troubled. This interaction, it had profoundly changed Arthur. Oh he would need more! But it had sowed the seed of doubt, about his attitude and his values. The one he needed to be able to flourish later.

Arthur's blue eyes met hers, since she'd been starring. She slowly shook her head in a disapproving way before going back to her work. She didn't thing he would cause her trouble for that much, he had enough on his mind today.

It was a stupidly little act of rebellion but it did help her spirit. She went much lighter to Morgana's chamber after that. Merlin's arrival marked the start, the real start of everything and she knew it. As much as she'd like to thread carefully... she would strive to go forward without changing herself.

And in her head, she was already thinking about tomorrow. When Merlin would be tied in the plaza, she would meet him again. Properly this time. She had time to compose herself, she would not break meeting his gaze- she would try to give him the care and the encouragement he so clearly needed.

You won't be alone this time, Merlin. I owe you that at the very least.

“I'm Guinevere. But people usually call me Gwen.” Shaking his hand was strange. Seeing him smile freely was stranger. Much like with Morgana, she felt like she was talking to the ghost of someone she knew- in a good way.

“And I'm Merlin. But people usually just call me idiot” An easy laugh from his lips followed that sentence. It wasn't that serious but somehow, it made her terribly sad.

Had he acted this way the first time? What a self-deprecating undertone.

“No, no no. You were really brave.” She was looking right in his eyes, the voice much too grave. She needed to calm down. “I actually... many times, I wanted to say something about the prince. He's truly acting like a bully. But I never did, yet you've done so right away. That takes courage.”

“More like stupidity. I just never paused to think at all.” She noticed his ears were a bit red, the compliments had embarrassed him. How surprisingly cute! He truly was still young. “Don't feel bad for not putting yourself in the path of his Royal Pratness before, it's smarter not to confront guys like him head first.”

Nonetheless Gwen was not done yet:

“Do not downplay it. You have a kind and courageous spirit, and I hope we can become friends if you intend to stay in Camelot.” And she did hope so, sincerely. “I can even show you around if you want.”

“Well!” he looked embarrassed still, but glad to move on from the topic. “I am staying in Camelot so It'll be my pleasure. I'll be moving with Gaius, if you know him? I'm to help him with his work.”

“Gaius as in Gaius the Court Physician? Of course I know him!” She smiled mischievously, his previous embarrassment having inspired her. “So you're smart as well as brave! How impressive!”

She was sure if he wasn't tied up, he would have found an excuse to run away. It was funny how unable he was to deal with compliments. Well though luck, Merlin. I already indulged your humbles and sarcastic ways last time around.

“No, no, it's not that impressive really. He just knows my mother.” He suddenly turned his head to see children running fruits in hands “Seems like my fans are coming back, so Guinevere, if you would...” he raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“Just Gwen really is fine." She looked back at him pensively. He was a more sensible man than he wanted to make himself appear and she wouldn't make the mistake of taking his smile at first value again.  "You want me to talk them out of it?”

“Nah.” This time, he sincerely looked amused. “That is really nice, Gwen, but don't bother. I don't mind.”

She walked away a bit guilty, but this didn't sound like a lie. The novelty of it all may amuse him a little after all.

And it could have gone much worst. She had thought this in her first life too; but considering the offence, Arthur had been rather lenient. A true spoiled noble wouldn't have shied away from corporal punishment.

Uther probably wouldn't have hesitated in his position.

For both his children the apple had thankfully rolled far from the tree. Although in Morgana's case... well. Anything could happen yet.

(Her heart had a painful twist thinking about how similarly cruel she could become. She wouldn't this time. No, she wouldn't. Gwen would do everything and more before allowing that.)

In all honesty she had forgotten that it didn't end there. There was still this joke of a fight between the two men. Right in the public place, really! Merlin could have ended up really hurt. And was he insane?

She knew he had used magic there. She hadn't seen clearly but since she had been on the lookout for details like this- she knew. He would gamble his life for such a stupid thing? For pride? This arrogance was only underling how new he was to the kingdom.

She was baffled still that he had dared. Since he had arrived... his behaviour lacked so much self-preservation that it was troubling. There was being rebellious and carefree, and then there was death wish. A shame they were nowhere near close enough yet for her to set the record straight about it with him.

He was lucky that Arthur was mesmerised by his boldness and let him go after, even if the bruises he got must hurt. Could she go after Merlin to help..?

She hesitated too much and the boy disappeared in the crowd. Well, Gaius was in a better place to assist him than her anyhow. And she had work.

(But she kept was she saw in the corner of her brain. She'll make sure to address it when the time was right.)

Walking in the corridor of the castle after that, she was muddling still on how to handle thing. She had a lot of cards in her hands right now. She didn't want to waste them neither by inaction nor by overconfidence.

And something told her that screaming to Merlin that she knew his secret out of the blue would not do great in making him trust her.

“Gwen, you're here!” Lady Morgana great her warmly. “I just met Arthur, do you have any idea what's gotten into him theses day? He's acting so weird.” She then added with a pointed look. “And I mean weirder than usual.”

Putting away the bucket of water she was carrying on the floor, she leaned in Morgana's direction with a conspirational tone:

“Actually...” She paused dramatically. “I believe he may have found himself a friend.”

Morgana rolled her eyes in response “Now that I'll believe when I'll see it. Well, could you help me find a dress for tomorrow night's reception? I want to try to forget that Uther is having a private supper with lady Helen as we speak.” She grimaced at the thought.

Not keen on focusing on that either, Gwen gladly discussed garment while folding sheet near lady Morgana. Would green be better? Or red? Too bold? It wouldn't matter anyway- and all Morgana's dresses were gorgeous- but the discussion was light and pleasant to lost herself into.

She remembered like a flash the time she caught Merlin despairing in lady Morgana chamber, a dress in hand before the windscreen- likely having entered by mistake and getting caught up in the moment. As amusing as that had been she would have to catch him before this time, no need to risk the world most senseless diplomatic incident ruining this timeline before it started.

She did in fact catch him in time, raising eyebrows at him while he retreated bashfully. But unfortunately she couldn't manage to speak to him properly. And between the banquet preparation and his own errands, aside from exchanging a few smiles when crossing path, they had not had any occasion to socialize more.

A blessing in disguise. This was not time yet to mess around. She would feel more at peace trying to change anything after Merlin became the not-dead-if-everything-went-well-prince's manservant. But she had spent quite a few weeks already in this new life feeling powerless, and it was starting to wear her out.

At least she had time to enjoy spending evenings with her dad. It was a pleasant change of pace, that's for sure, even if she was more tired than she remembered being. She could have asked Morgana to reduce her workload but Gwen had a pride of her own- and she was stupidly reluctant to do so.

Today, there was nothing to do but to wait for the night.

(Later when the body of a blonde servant girl would be found in lady Helen's chamber, Gwen would feel a guilt more painful than ever before. She hadn't even remembered her. She would then look at her heartbroken fiancé and think, you'll never know how much you would be right to hate me.)

The reception was splendid. Food looked delicious, the nobles were draped in luxurious garment full of colours. In the centre of the room, talking to Arthur, her own lady was particularly breathtaking.

“She looks gorgeous, doesn't she?” her voice was full of a strange longing. She was finally able to spare a few words to Merlin and now, it seemed that something as unhelpful as that would escape her lips.

“Yes...” He was staring too, like many other in the room. It strangely irked Gwen despite her being the one to bring it up.

What had they talked about, her and Merlin, a lifetime ago? She was desperate to change the topic.

“Are you.. settling okay in Camelot? I didn't even ask, where are you from?” Neutral yet a practical question considering what was to come. She couldn't think of more in the moment.

“Oh! Yes, yes. Meeting royal prats and dr-dreaded idiots sometimes..” Wait, Gwen could swore that he almost said- “...but I'm getting used to everything.” He smiled brightly “And I actually come from Cenred's kingdom. It's not that far but I lived in a small village there, so it feels very different.”

“I imagine so.. I must admit I've always lived here.” She offered in return, deciding to return his candor. “My mom used to be a maid for Sir Leon's household.” He didn't react to the name. “He's one of the greatest knight around, I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough. It's thanks to him I was trusted to work for the ward of the King in the first place.”

“Well look at you, Gwen- it seems you're pretty impressive too.” He teased.

“Hm hm. You don't know the half of it.” Before they could continue, the trumpet announcing King Uther cut them off.

Knowing what was to come didn't help the tension. Gwen distracted herself by focusing her attention on the King. This man...

He looked ordinary for someone who caused so much pain. The man who decimated the magic user for his own hypocrisy, the man responsible for her own father's death... the man she deemed the start of everything, in a way.

He looked younger than in her memory of him. She didn't know what to feel. Even her anger wasn't hot and sharp, it was one that the years had dulled strangely. But she was afraid it wouldn't take much for it to come back with a vengeance.

She could in a way understand the woman crawling on the floor. She was wrong for targeting Arthur, but Gwen could understand her. The witch was moving with only pain in her heart, and it was clear that she had died well before today. May she find peace in death.

Meanwhile in this timeline, like any other timeline she believed, Merlin saved Arthur's life. She could feel the breath of relief she was holding go, finally relaxing a little.

And like prophesied, it happened:

“You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant.” The King declared, satisfied with his judgement.

Famous last words.

Chapter Text

“You want to start with this piece, on the shoulder- yes like that! You need to tie it pretty tight but still be careful of not blocking blood-flow.”

Gwen had taken upon herself the task of showing Merlin the harrowing task of putting on a armour. He would need it soon, and you couldn't count on Arthur to think about the fact that the boy knew next to nothing about... well everything about his new job.

Merlin was looking like packing up and fleeing the kingdom was an appealing alternative to her lesson. Rude. But the compassion she felt for his new position was greater than her pride, so she didn't comment.

“I think I got it... but Gwen, how did you you even come to learn about armour?” the when you're just a maid went unsaid. “You do all that so naturally.”

“Oh!” She was so used at people knowing her as her father's daughter that she hadn't though to mention it. Of course this younger Merlin wouldn't know. “My father is the local blacksmith, Tom. He's very respected in his domain. I'm glad to have learnt a few things from him.” She grinned. “I'm not half bad with a blade either.”

“Oh really?” He rose his eyebrow. “Should we expect Gwen the royal Knight in a nearby future?”

She knew he was just teasing, but it surprisingly hurt to think about. Even after Arthur allowed nobles to join the ranks of the knights he never entertained the though of allowing women in. The mere idea was no more than a joke to these men, easily laugh away and forgotten.

It was a certainty in her mind that her precarious position as widowed Queen would never have allowed her to push for something so controversial. But she hadn't even tried. Had she any right to complain considering her passivity?

“I didn't mean to be rude.” He must have sensed her troubled reaction. “Honestly, Gwen, I've never seen you fight but if this is something important to you...” He sounded surprised but immediately ready to support her. “Don't give up. You never know what could change, right?” He always was a sweet man.

“Pff, right.” She shook her head. “A commoner girl. The dreams are pretty restricted, let me tell you. But thank you.” She looked right into his eyes to try to convey her sincerity. “It means a lot to me that you would say that, no matter how unrealistic. It's kind.”

He was silent a moment before adding quietly: “I like to think that nothing is set in stone. Arbitrary and unjust laws don't have to stay forever.”He had a faraway look on him that she tactfully didn't comment on. “You know? I have to believe that much.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I know what you mean.”

She continue to show him how to attend a fighter, but it was in a much lighter atmosphere. Slowly, slowly, a true sense of camaraderie was starting to set in between them. She was so glad to have Merlin back, kind of.

Of course she still didn't know best to breach the magic subject yet but in the meantime, she would just have to be a good friend.

They parted way and Gwen's mood immediately soured upon seeing a face she would have preferred not to.

What was the name of this man again? A pompous knight with evil tricks under his sleeves (or rather, his shield). She was surprised she even remembered him but in truth, he did mark the start of a long string of bold murder attempt on Arthur.

He hadn't been the most impressive foe. But he had been the first that made her actively anxious about Arthur's life. Despite his plain look, she could not forget him that easily it seemed.

He would fight this evening with Sir Ewan. It wouldn't end well. Another senseless dead that she couldn't see a way to avoid. How useless could that knowledge be? (How useless could she be-)

Later on stuck on the spectator seat next to Morgana, she new she was acting unusually tense. Her knuckles were hurting from having her hands strongly closed for too long, and her gaze didn't stray from Sir Valiant. He was talented but she could almost caught his little act. The snakes...

Sir Ewan was escorted to Gaius tent under the confusion and scrutiny of the people watching.

“Gwen, are you alright?” Morgana's sharp voice made her jump.

“Yes! Yes, I'm just worried for Sir Ewan.”

Morgana didn't look convinced at all. She was silent and more serious than usual.

“Gwen, is...” she paused “Come, let us talk in private.”

Following Morgana away from the agitation of the tournament, Gwen wondered were this was going. The King's ward wasn't letting go of her arm. What about her attitude could lead to such an intense reaction....? She was getting nervous.

Once isolated in Morgana's quarter, the lady looked at her intensely:

“You don't have to be afraid to tell me anything.” A pause. “If anything happened, anything at all- I just want you to know I'll believe you. And I'll be on your side.”

“My lady, I...” Gwen was slightly incredulous. “I'm intensely grateful but, I'm not sure what warranted such a declaration?”

The situation was increasingly awkward. Morgana had seemingly an idea in her head and she was not known to second guess herself. What misunderstanding was even there to be had?

On the other hand, Morgana's sincerity was hitting her in the chest. Her righteous side was hard to resist to- she sounded like a proper romantic hero.

“You tense everytime Sir Valiant” she spat the name like dirt “is near. What has that man done? I know you wouldn't act like that for no reason. Gwen,” she added with a softer voice “you can talk to me.”

This was both surprising and at the same time- not at all. Obviously Morgana would notice her anguish. What had Gwen expected? She would have to clear up the horrible assumptions that stemmed form her behaviour.

But now, there was a gamble to take. How honest could she be?

“No no, it's not..! Sir Valiant didn't do anything to me. It's just.” She breathed shortly. “It's his shield.”

“His... shield?” Morgana clearly hadn't expected that one. She went from an intense attitude to a baffled one in a matter of seconds.

“It moves. The snakes draw on it are alive. I know it sounds insane! But I swear, my Lady, I'm not lying- sometimes the snakes wiggle and hiss and no one else seem to notice? And with Sir Ewan...”

“The strange way he fell... you think it was foul play.” Morgana paused. “That is a serious accusation.”

“It is.” She didn't add anything. Accusing a knight of the crime of magic of all thing, it was more than serious. And coming from a maid? Insinuating such thing could backfire heavily.

“If that poor excuse of a man is actually playing these kinds of trick” Morgana pinched her lips “Then tomorrow, when he faces Arthur, he won't hesitate. And your words alone would not have weight much against a knight's if you spoke up before.”

Gwen nodded quietly.

Morgana sighed. Then resolute, she said:

“Then I saw snakes coming from Sir Valiant's shield during the fight.”

“My lady!” It honestly took Gwen by surprise, she hadn't even factor in that possibility. Morgan would be ready to lie on her behalf? Just like that?

“I know you're not lying. And Uther can't ignore it if it comes from me.” She looked satisfied with her solution.

“Still this is.. we may have no way to prove this.” They couldn't last time around, right? But the accusation came from Merlin, then Arthur- who was obviously far from neutral. Lady Morgana had nothing to gain from lying about this.

And she would be more delicate and timely than Merlin when dealing the accusation. She already had a calculating look on her face, deciding how to best proceed, she wouldn't let details to chance.

“Sure. But we can guard him until Sir Ewan is well enough to provide testimony. And send people to examine this shield.” Her tone morph into a half bitter, half mocking one as she continued “If nothing turns out, I'll blame my poor sleep for my mistake.”

Morgana's nights were still ravaged by nightmares. They were getting more and more violent at this point in time, but the prophetic nature of these dreams had yet to be exposed. It was simply well known that she often asked Gaius for sleeping draughts.

Could it be that easily resolved?

“I went to give Lady Morgana my thanks, but she said you were actually more deserving of them.” Sir Ewan, now able to walk again, had taken a place at her side. “So thank you, Gwen. Truly.”

She didn't know the man well. Beside exchanging a few polite hellos, she hadn’t had a discussion with him before.

“I didn't do a thing to deserve them I'm afraid.” She kept busying her hand folding laundry, not meeting his gaze.

“I disagree.” He crossed his arms. “More snakes were ready to silence me for good if no one had been warned, and I was in no state to defend myself. It was courageous to speak out.”

“Courageous...” She hadn't been able to get the image of Sir Valiant, face distorted by anger, getting dragged to his execution out of her mind. She hadn't been able to feel good about anything she did about the situation. “It's to Gaius and Merlin and their medicine that we should all be grateful. I'm glad to see that you're already feeling better.”

“It's a blessing to have them in Camelot!” Sir Ewan's voice was full of warmth. He seemed a nice man. At least to him, she could do some right. “I'm still thankful to you Gwen. Sir Leon speak highly of you, and I can see why. Do not hesitate to ask should you need anything.”

He made a little movement with his head, like good talk, I won't bother you any longer, and went on his way. She wondered what the ripple effect of having him live would be. Morbidly, it crossed her mind that he could still drop dead on the next hunting trip and close that hypothesis for good.

Would she come to regret her interference...? She didn't think so, but it was not an outcome she had been prepared to. Only time would tell.

She couldn't wait to go home. She was getting too worked up there- she was too tired to be rational. She was hesitating about so many courses of action for the future that she still ended up in utter passivity; exactly what she didn't want in the first place.

She felt like everything was both too fast and too slow. One moment she was savouring time passed with her father, with Merlin and Morgana, looking from afar as Arthur was turning more and more decent. Then she would see a pyre and feel a nauseating guilt.

These two feeling were clashing terribly and violently quite regularly. And in the middle of it all a single thought: wasn't she overestimating how much of an impact she could have, not matter what she choose?

It was perhaps because she was constantly trapped between the immediate moment and the far future that anticipating obvious things slipped off her mind. Because coming home this evening, she hadn't expected to find her father deadly sick.

After a gasp she went at his side, horrified. She already knew that she couldn't do a thing.

Would Merlin take pity on her pain and help her, once again? She desperately wanted to think so. Because she actually had no idea what he did the first time, for that and to stop the plage. She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't know.

She must have looked as terrible as she felt for when she passed by the physician’s door, he assumed she was the one in trouble:

“Gwen? Please sit down dear girl, tell me what's wrong.” She couldn't muster patience for Gaius kind but unhelpful attitude today.

“No, no! It's my dad! Please Gaius, he's sick!” And you can save him. And you won't, and it's not your fault but it is your fault because why, why why have you stood here and let it happen when magic was outlawed? Why? Have you no shame to be here when your friends burned?

What hypocritical things to feel. She couldn't help it.

“Shh, calm down, please breath. Merlin!” The boy was already coming to the room, alerted by the noise. “Go with Gwen see if his father has the same illness as the others. I need to keep trying to figure this out. Come back if he need something else”

“Of course.” He looked grave today. The plague must already have made a few victims, she just hadn't heard the rumours yet. Not that it would have done any good if she had.

Nauseating panic was pulsing in her veins.

“He's all I have.” She heard herself say pathetically. “Since my brother left- he's all I have.” I just got him back.

Merlin was just following her quietly. He did ask at one point:

“Does Lady Morgana know about this yet?”

“No, I came straight to Gaius to ask for help.” Even if she knew it was useless. Instinct took over, and the memory of her father, dying at Uther Pendragon's orders... never again. “I'll tell her first thing in the morn, I just had to do something.”

“I understand.” The sympathy in his voice was very clear. “If anything happened to my mom, I don't know what I would do. ”

(She was all he had, too. That he knew of for now. Because Gwen clearly remembered hearing a tale about a Dragonlord and whatnot as she was busy dying herself- and would be very curious to have the full version.)

Examining her father, Merlin was grim. It was to be expected.

But would he save him still? She never knew what pushed him to take the risk the first time. Maybe just his kindness, shining even in the roughness that was Camelot.

When she died she heard him admit that he could never forgive himself for all his mistakes. But truly, considering... he had always been far nicer than life would have him be. For all his fault Gwen knew: he had sincerely, sincerely tried.

Getting arrest by the guards for usage of magic the next day was the most relieved she had been in a while.

It was Sir Leon that came to see her first.

“I'm sorry for not checking on you more often. I know things have been rough for your family. I wish... I wish you could have relied on me more.” His voice was tight with emotion.

I didn't do it, she said once upon a time. I swear I didn't use magic. But she didn't feel like saying that now. And what if she did? She had nothing to feel guilty about.

“I didn't think it was a good idea to allow it but know that Sir Ewan wanted to come see you too. He's swearing left and right that there's been a mistake. I hope the King come to see it too- I know you're a kind girl.”

In her silence she noticed more this time. He knew that she was kind, as he said, but he sincerely believed she'd done it. She could see it.

Not causing the plague, but using magic to save her father.

Wasn't it a good thing in a way? That he could still see magic as a kindness. She choose to interpret his word as a good omen for his future support on the matter and looked at him leave pensively. She was a bit sorry if her apathy worried him even more, but the matter would be swiftly sorted anyhow.

One way or another.

Morgana was next. Storming near the cell, the picture of righteous fury herself:

“I cannot believe that they would do that. Are they insane! If you were a oh so powerful witch, you would stay a servant?”

What a funny thing to say. The humour was unfortunately lost on Morgana, so Gwen tried to cheer her up with a strangled voice:

“I might. Being your servant ain't so bad my Lady.”

“Be serious!” She was thunderous. “How can you even joke in this situation? They want the death penalty Gwen! Uther refuse to listen, and I.” Her voice wavering. “I can't make him change his mind.”

“I know.” She breathed. “I didn't do it.”

“Of course I know that! It's not me that-” Gwen didn't let her finish.

“I didn't do it but if I knew of a way to cure my father, I would have. Magic or not.” Gwen couldn't look at her in the eyes. “So perhaps I do deserve this, because I don't see how it's wrong to save a life.”

Morgana said nothing. But she stood up and, just as abruptly as she came, she left the room with the echos of her boots hitting the floor. Who's to said what she was thinking?

Gwen meant what she said. She had a long life to make peace with magic. She wanted to spare her friend the anguish of hatred of this part of her, and no matter how heavy handed she had to be, she would try to convey this.

“Gwen...?”

Merlin. He looked awkward, standing at the door of the room, looking at her cell.

“Ah.” She smiled despite everything. “Sorry if Morgana hit you on the way. Might have angered her a little.”

“It's fine, more importantly are you okay? I mean.” He was struggling to get the words out. “I swear I will get you out of this.”

“Hey, Merlin.” She cut him. Her calmness was unsettling him, she could tell. “I want to tell you something, and it's important that you listen.”

“O...kay?”

“No matter what happens next, thank you.” She reached for his hands between the metal bar of her cell. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“I'm not sure what you mean.” His eyes were wild

“Yes you do.” They were silent a moment. “I was pretty sure I saw you use it when you fought Arthur that first day anyway, I don't care. I had a feeling you were a good man and I was right. So thank you for saving my father.”

It was a lot. She felt lighter.

In her first life... she didn't dare to follow this one thought to the end. She closed her mind to the possibility. But it wasn't far from what she could have said back then, if she had allowed herself to think freely.

It was what she wished she had said to Merlin. So here it was, her erratum. May this be the start of something better.

But for now the man looked petrified by her confession; she wished he didn't look so terribly guilty.

“...I'm not going to let you die, Gwen.” His voice trembled. Like Morgana he left abruptly, unlike her it was with soft steps.

They were alike and different in strange ways, Gwen thought. But they both deserved a sweeter existence.

She leaned back against the wall of her cell. They probably would manage whatever they did last time to stop the illness and prove her innocence. Despite having spent the last hours sitting, she felt completely drained.

Sleep took her the second she closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

Despite believing in her friends ability to solve the issue, Gwen still felt great relief when she got out of the cell. She had slept through most of her incarceration- a troubled and fitful sleep where she dreamt of fire, of regret, of Morgana driven by insanity as she was in another life.

Thank the lord that she was not the prophetic one.

This Morgana had hugged her tight when she stepped out the cell. She hadn't mentioned their previous argument, she hadn't explained how they managed to stop the plague and prove Gwen's innocence, she hadn't had a word to spare to clear up anything. But she did hold her in her arms for a long time, scolding her for making her worry.

(“Never do that again Gwen. I forbid you from dying, you hear me? What would I even do it something happened to you?”)

And also, in a mutter...

(“I can never forgive him.”)

Gwen knew that Uther had ordered her execution. It's what he did last time, despite Morgana's plea. She just hadn't realized last time how much resentment the Lady had built over their arguments. The amount of time the two of them argued were increasing, and each dispute was more violent than the last.

It has been this way too in her past life, hasn't it.

The topics of their argument were also more and more serious. Gwen gladly believed that Morgana cared about her enough to be angry on her behalf- but that went beyond that. It was the way Uther decide over life and death without a care, crushing anyone bothering him under his boots. The gross abuse of power, of violence, the ego, Morgana had grown sick of it all.

Arthur hadn't talked much about his father. Gwen knew he disagreed on many things and yet, he had a hard time seeing Uther as anything but his father. Arthur likely blinded himself a little as to how much harm he did. And after his passing, speaking ill of the man seemed in poor taste.

Perhaps they should have talked about it nonetheless. Unsaid things had the tendency to rot instead of going away... and silence had not done them any favour.

It was a lifetime too late for this kind of regret. But it did make Gwen think again about what she intended to do about the trice damned Uther Pendragon. It was a bit morbid, but should she wish his death? Arthur was in no state to take his place right now. As for Agravaine...?

The bitterness she felt toward this man made it hard to stay objective. A traitor he was, but to whom? The man hated Uther, for good reasons. But not ones that could justify his following actions.

He blamed the King for the death of his siblings. But was there a way he could learn to tolerate his child? Without Morgana's influence, it was unclear what he would have done. Arthur was Ygraine's son too after all.

Yet he was a sincerely unpleasant man.

Gwen wouldn't pretend to understand his thought process. She couldn't imagine a word where she trusted Agravaine for anything. This didn't mean that he would necessarily make the same choices than he did before, considering the heart of his hatred.

For now Uther was alive, Arthur was young, Agravaine was far. Despite her mixed feeling, there was not much she could do about any of it.

What she could do, instead... well she hadn't been able to talk to Merlin alone again yet since being set free. She dreaded the encounter.

“Are you okay, Gwen?” her father's voice startled her. He sounded worried, like often these days. The thought of having to see his daughter executed because of him seemed to have broken something in him.

“Yes, just lost in thought.” She didn't know how to reassure him. She knew how being the one watching him be put to death felt, she couldn't find the hypocrisy to tell him it would have been okay.

“You can take a few days of rest.” He didn't seem to know what to do. “Don't worry about the money, I can manage. I just don't want you to overwork yourself.”

Except, could he manage? The last time he tried to play smart to win money... “Please, promise me you wouldn't ever try some shady tricks to win gold- we don't need this.”

“Now you sound more like yourself, you need to scold your old dad to feel better?” He teased, but his voice was a bit relieved. Maybe she really did sound more lively while criticizing...

“I'm being serious. I know you mean well, but we need to be very careful about looking suspicious from now on.” It was such a low blow. She sincerely hoped it was enough to shoot down his future foolishness, because it didn't amuse her to have to talk like this.

“Gwen...” He looked so sad. For him... his wife dead, his son far, his daughter rotting in jail- waking up after almost dying from the plague hadn't been a pleasant experience.

“I'm really fine dad.” She looked at him. “Lady Morgana is good to me, it's not a problem to go to work. She's looking out for me. I just don't want you to get in trouble on my behalf.”

“Always so responsible.” He looked melancholic. “I should have taught you how to run the forge from the start, I wouldn't have worried for the future.”

To some degree, Gwen knew her dad had resented Elyan's decision to leave. Especially the way he didn't keep in touch, didn't explain anything. The initial worry and incomprehension had morphed into anger, but... it never had a chance to see light the first time.

She hadn't spent nearly as much time with her father and he didn't confide in her. Then he died before Elyan came home, carrying his feelings in his grave. It was a strange thing to hear.

“Elyan will be back, you know. I'm sure of it.”

“Ah” He shook his head. “The boy's big enough to do whatever he feels like doing. But I'm not sure I'd pass down my livelihood to someone who care so little for it, I hope he's aware of this.”

He went back to work and it was as if their mood had shifted: him lost in his thought and her awkwardly standing beside him.

She left for the castle soon after.

She found Morgana in her chamber, still on her bed, with her head in her arms. Gwen didn't have to ask. This was a recurring view, on that twisted her heart every times.

The nightmares plaguing the graceful lady were violent and haunting. They'd make her scream and shiver during the night and no medicine seemed able to cure her. Even if Gwen knew that they were of magical origin, it didn't help much.

“This one didn't even make sense.” She muttered.

“Would you want to talk about it still, my lady?” Gwen carefully started working around her, hoping the familiar acts would distract her from her pain.

“Arthur, dying. He's looking at a flower, and then...” She paused. “This was the clearer dream I've had yet. But I don't know why they feel so... real. So painful.”

It was rare to see Morgana be so openly vulnerable. Gwen felt compelled to pause to look at her. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

A bit shaken, Gwen went to take her hand in hers. She let her thumb roll on the back of Morgana's hand in a comforting motion.

“You were there, too.” What? “Seems like my dreams took pity on me and tried to offer me some comfort.” She tried to joke with a shaky voice.

Gwen was far from sharing the humor of it. “I was there?”

“For a brief moment, yes. You were disappearing in the forest.” She snorted. “Talk about a strange nightmare.”

“Indeed.” She probably should be rather worried, actually. “But I'm... glad you're slowly regaining colour now.”

“Somewhat.” Morgana sighed. “I'm never going to get rid of them, theses dreams. Could you go to Gaius look for a painkiller? Or something of the same effect, my head is killing me.”

“Of course.” She squeezed her hand a little before letting her go. “I'll be right back.”

Addressing the nightmares properly would have to wait. Yet another thing she had no clue as to how to handle well.

“Maybe you'll even see Merlin there.” Morgana muttered under her breath. Her tone was strange. Half teasing, half reproachful. What was that about?

She left the room direction Gaius office, but as she feared, the old man wasn't the one to open his door.

Merlin was looking at her, completely frozen. He looked as uncomfortable as can be- she felt the same way. It was time to take responsibility for what she said the last time they talked.

“I... can I come in?”

“Oh! Sure, yes.” he moved a little to the left, letting her walk in the room. “Gaius is not here, he's with a patient right now. If you were looking for him.”

“I'm here for a painkiller for Lady Morgana. But Merlin...” She took a deep breath. “Is it okay if we talk first?”

He went to sit on a chair, looking pale.

“So. Gwen, about what you said last time...”

“I was right, then? You do have magic.” She answered in a low voice.

It was a bit unfair for him, this conversation. But she wouldn't let it go this time. She tried to, in a way, act like she would have back then. Maybe with less nativity but with a fearless aplomb. To a seasoned liar like Merlin, it was probably what was needed.

Except this Merlin wasn't a great liar yet. And he looked scared, but not as terrified as the old Merlin: the one who had time to understand the gravity of his secret. Right now he was still the Merlin who soon would have felt free enough to open up to Lancelot, when he'd come by Camelot.

And so, this Merlin just said with a painfully earnest voice:

“I was born with it.”

“That's...” It had been the first thing that he told her too, on her deathbed. The familiar phrasing perturbed her a little. “I meant what I said, when I thanked you for my father.”

“I never intended for them to think it was you. Gwen I swear, I tried to tell them!”

“You tried to what?” She hadn't know that. “How could you be so foolish!”

“Arthur shut me down anyway.” He looked apologetic still. Unbelievable. “I'm afraid the whole court think I'm in love with you now. And Arthur does too. And Morgana.”

“Good grief.” That was certainly something. But after all, hadn't they shared a kiss once upon a time? It felt so weird to think about. She wouldn't do it again, no offence to the man. “That's probably what she meant then.” she added under her breath.

They stayed silence for a while. Gwen didn't know if speaking up would be rude. Was the topic taboo now? Would Merlin open up more? She went to sit at his side, waiting.

“You are one of the first persons to know. Aside from my mom, Gaius and a childhood friend- no one else.” He was avoiding her gaze. It was unsurprising that Gaius knew, but she was glad. At least he had someone in his corner.

“It must be lonely.” It had been what Merlin's tale underlined the most. How alone he had been, facing all these terrible decisions. “To have no one around who understand.”

“It is, a little.” He let out a dry laugh. “I hate having to hide. Camelot is... strict, about magic.”

“A nice understatement.” She was mindlessly rubbing her fingers together. “I don't understand then. Why come here? Of all place, why Camelot?”

“I know, right?” He raised an eyebrow. “But thing were wrong in Ealdor. I could never fit in. Going to live with Gaius, it felt like opening new doors for the future. And” he paused “Now that I'm here, I feel like it's where I'm meant to be. I really do.”

She wondered if he was talking about the prophecy, or if it was just how he felt. He did seem at his place at Arthur side. You'd see them together and think: yes, that feel right. That's how thing are supposed to be.

She wondered if people ever feel that way with her and Arthur. She'd like to think that for a while, they really were that couple almost destined to be. That was perhaps too arrogant of her. Especially since she felt that version of her slowly, slowly slip by... she couldn't be that woman anymore.

She felt an unexpected pinch of regret. She didn't crave that life anymore, but she hadn't really managed to mourn it properly either. Was this the reason why some of these past events where still clear in her mind despite the years gone by?

“Gwen, you told me you lived here in Camelot all your life. But it doesn't bother you? Despite everything, the magic...?” It was a fair question.

“I know nothing of it, more like. It's hard to hate something you're so ignorant about.” And she felt that ignorance deep, every time she was standing powerless in front of Morgana's nightmares.

“That's a sentence most would heavily disagree with.”

“True.” She hummed pensively. “Then I suppose, I've always found hard to understand this law. Seeing the execution over the most frivolous act of magic, even for children- it never sat right with me.  It felt cruel. Even if I'd never dared to question it openly, I'm always glad when Lady Morgana speak up against it.”

“She does?” He looked surprised. He hadn't spent much time with her yet then, if he didn't know the strength of her resentment toward Uther. Or maybe Gwen was just more exposed to it and didn't realized how secret their disputes were?

“She really does. Lady Morgana is a fair woman, and she have a hard time understanding many of the King's decision. I think...” she hesitated “I do think you two would get along.”

Or you'd kill each other. But surely, it didn't have to be this way?

“That I'm not sure of.” He looked surprisingly bitter about it. Gwen was missing something still, but what? Why was he so wary toward Morgana? He had no reason to yet, none that she knew of.

“But why?” She wanted to understand. She needed to. This was one of the key of it all, she was sure of it now.

“That's...” he paused. “I'll tell you one day. I swear I'll explain more.” He sighed “I can't barely understand the things he said half the time, so it may be nonsense.”

He had said the last sentence in a low volume. It was not really directed at Gwen, but she couldn't help but wonder. Who was he talking about? Because if she took into account some of the things he confessed to her as she died, she was starting to have a strange theory. A really far fetched one.

But not an impossible one.

“Mind not telling Gaius that you know?” Merlin suddenly said. “He was really mad already about the whole thing, I think he would kill me himself.”

“Sure”. She smiled. This would assuredly backfire. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you Gwen. Really.” He smiled back.

“But would you mind...” She hesitated, unsure of where to go with it. “You'd talk to me about it? Magic I mean.”

“You want to learn about magic?” He looked stunned.

“I'll never have the opportunity to otherwise. I want to understand. Is that okay..?” It wasn't an act. For thing to change, she would need to understand them more.

Why has magic slowly disappeared during her reign? What did Emyr stand for, in truth? A distorted tale uttered at the end of a life couldn't hold good explanations for much.

“Yes! Yes, I mean.” He added. “I barely know anything myself, but I'll be glad to share it with you.”

And then, with a self-satisfied smile, he raised his hand and made the medicine float up to his palm. His eyes were a flash of glowing gold.

Gwen let out a startled laugh. So a Merlin without fear, that was that? Incredible.

“Here you go!” He said, but she was still mesmerized by the display. It must be the first time in her whole life that she saw such a tame, mundane magic.

Was there a spell to clean dishes? To warm up mug and bathwater? It never crossed her mind before that magic could be used for silly tasks like this.

“Thank you, Merlin.” For the medicine, for opening her mind. For this second chance, most likely.

She walked back to Lady Morgana's chamber lighter than ever.

(And a few rooms over, a servant girl could be seen carrying a little mallet. Inside it were resting two ceremonial goblet of a silver hue.)

Chapter Text

Facing the righteous heir of the kingdom, Gwen spoke with an assurance she didn't felt:

“I'm going with you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Arthur was looking back at her with a baffled expression on his face.

“I said, your highness, that I'll go with you to retrieve the flower.” She couldn't back down now. “I want to help Merlin too.”

And the truth was that guilt was starting to get to her. Trying to warn Merlin against the cup and the suspicious servant girl had dramatically backfire- to the point where she was wondering if things hadn't gone even worst than they had the first time.

(But maybe not. The first time around was pretty bad.)

At least he hadn't imply that the Lord wanted to kill Arthur, just that he was too neglectful to prevent this accident. It was probably a tad more diplomatic? Certainly even. But the endpoint had been the same:

Merlin, drinking from the cup in front of Arthur, standing horrified. The deceitful maid long gone. The medicine hard to come by, and the king more than uninterested to put in the effort to search for it.

Ah, she should just have tried to tip off Morgana about the cups instead. She had already proved to be much more reliable to deal with people-related problem than Merlin.... the man had the sad tendency to rush to his own demise when left unsupervised.

Anyway, it was somewhat nostalgic to relive this situation. She was worried about her friend for sure- but she was also convinced that he would be alright. And in her first life, seeing the prince going against everything to save a servant? It was the beginning of her changing her mind about him.

Something about first love, hm. No matter how over and done those were- it had a peculiar place in your heart. This was perhaps why she was avoiding Arthur as much as possible since she'd been here. It was both painful and sad in a way, to reminisce this.

Behind the loss of her last life was the loss of her position as queen, of memories shared with friends, of mutual trusts she would have to rebuild. She was surrounded by shadows of those she had loved. She was starting to feel peace in this timeline, but it was still hard at unexpected instants.

“Look.” The prince finally interjected. “I know Merlin and you are... something.” he made a vague hand gesture, and Gwen was abruptly given a reminder of how annoying her dear late-husband could be. Good lord. “And that you want to help him. But I highly doubt having to protect a servant girl while I travel will be anything but an hindrance.”

“I certainly don't need you to protect me, my Lord.” May she be given the strength to talk to powerful man with diplomacy, for it was a harrowing task. “In fact, I could be of help if we encounter trouble.”

She showed him the sword she had taken from her father's forge. The weapon was slender, light enough for her to carry it with ease, but no less deadly. He looked at it with a dumbfounded look and she took the opportunity to double down:

“I can borrow Lady's Morgana's mare, be assured that I will not slow you down.” She took a step closer in his direction. “It'd be unwise to let you risk this alone.”

“I'll give it to you, this is bolder than anything I could have expected.” He shook his head, incredulous. “But Morgana would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

“She trust me to carry out this mission.” She easily answered. “She already agreed with me.” She actually had only begrudgingly and worriedly done so, but the man didn't need to know this part.

“Well we cannot afford to wait around and argue anyhow.” He huffed finally. “So Gwen. Let's get going, shall we?”

She smiled in return, and on the road they went.

It wasn't hard to notice that Arthur was preoccupied. He hadn't known Merlin for too long yet, but the thought of losing him seemed already unbearable for him. It surely was part because of his feeling of responsibility for the situation- but clearly, it went deeper than this. 

Running off in the dark with this somber mood made the journey heavy. Some sections of the path were rough and slowed them down enough to allow them to speak without shouting, and she felt the need to not let silence settle:

“We're not actually, you know.”

“What?” the answer was dry. Arthur wasn't interested to talk; tough luck.

“Something. With Merlin.” She was aiming for a light conversation “Lady Morgana may have implied otherwise, but the two of us are friend.”

“Obviously.” he was mocking, his voice sharp “You're risking so much for a friend.”

“Yes. Aren't you?” her own voice was soft, sounding almost fragile in contrast.

Only silence answered her back.

Arthur made his horse go faster, she could now only see his back. She had chosen a poor conversation opener... but their only common ground for now was Merlin. What else could have she even talked about? Nothing relevant came to mind.

“Sir...” She caught up with him with some difficulty. Horse-riding had never been her forte, she could barely handle this pace. “We're going to find it, I know it. Merlin will be alright.”

She didn't know how to talk to him. She was still mostly a stranger after all, and he clearly wasn't in the mood to exchange more.

The brief though of her older and familiar late husband hurt. She wished she could have said goodbye properly before he died, she felt his memory wouldn't haunt her nearly as much if she'd done so. More than for anyone in the kingdom, it was so hard for her to not compare him to this timeline's version. 

Had she made a mistake coming along today?

She had been certain that she needed to, somehow. It felt important. But she wasn't doing much except growing the awkward gap between her and Arthur. At the very least, she hoped her dedication would eventually raise his opinion of her. 

Still she would not make the mistake of pushing her intuition aside again. This journey would serve its purpose, whatever it may be, and was not something to be bemoaned before it even truly started.

But the closer they came to their destination, the stranger the atmosphere around them started to turn. It was as if a nebulous cloud was engulfing the forest and obstructing their mind the further they advanced.

They had to let the horses at the entrance of the clearing for the last part of the expedition. Gwen was regretting her impractical clothes already, but the precipitation of their departure hadn't allow her to prepare more. Her hand didn't leave the handle of her sword.

A mixture of fatigue and unease was making her sluggish. The moment was waiting to turn sour. And not a handful of minutes after, if didn't miss.

As if hit by a thunderbolt, the Prince suddenly started running like a madman:

“Do you hear that...? That's a woman's voice! She need help!”

“Wait, don't!” It was no use, Arthur was already out of sight.

Gwen stood no chance for following him. Was this a trap? Did he encounter a woman the first time? She had no time to process his abrupt decision.

Beside, something was pulling her in another direction.

What was that? A sent? A feeling? She was like in a trance, walking alone in the forest. She was going further and further away from the direction Arthur had run off to and she could not stop her body from moving.

She wished she could hold her sword better, but her hands didn't obey her any more. It was as if she was out of her own body. This feeling, oh she could swear it now.

It was magic. Whatever was making her derail from her path was magical.

And it didn't feel like the friendly kind.

Sweat was starting to build up on her temp. If this was some king of monster and she didn't manage to snap out of this soon, this wouldn't end well. She was well prepared for the journey to be dangerous but somehow she had she forgotten that a strange place like this one was the home of many kinds of danger.

The scent was becoming stronger and stronger and Gwen started to see what she was walking toward.

It looked like a flower. A tall, colourful, flower. It was twice as tall as Gwen herself, hidden in the shadow while its root were twisting and turning around the tree surrounding it. An hideous leaf was curved and sharp, ready to slice her open when she'd come closer.

Dread was rising in her chest. Shredded to pieces by a monster in a forest that she wasn't supposed to ever enter, was that what was awaiting her? It couldn't be over like that?

How stupid, how futile of a death.

“You foolish girl!” A woman's voice cut through her despair.

In a snap, the flower was bursting into flame. It crumbled to ashes with an horrible scream-like sound and Gwen could feel her articulation obeying her anew.

“Oh thank god...” She could have cried from relief.

“I do believe I'm the one who's owed thanks.” The woman was coming closer. “ And even some apologies, for the materials you just forced me to give up on.”

Gwen could now observe her correctly. She looked a little old, maybe around sixty years old or so. But still very energetic: she was currently looking at the ashes where the monster used to stand, sighing heavily. She was carrying a bag full of herbs and strange looking plants to the point of overflowing. Maybe she initially intended to collecte something from the beast?

She had blond hair, rather long, braided on one side. She was... somewhat familiar.

Yes, she'd seen this old woman before. Where? Why? It was more of a vague feeling than something concrete.

And considering the flames, where would she have met a witch like this one in either life?

“M'am, I do indeed owe you many thanks and apologies. May I have the name of my saviour?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, glaring disapprovingly at her: “Alice will do, imprudent child. May I have in return your own name and the reason that possessed you to come to such a place seemingly without the first knowledge of its risks?”

Alice... did she knew an Alice? Her troubled brain could not pinpoint where.

It would not come to her today, it was time to move on and act normal. It was probably for the best for her past knowledge to not show up to much. She would be caught acting rather suspicious otherwise.

“I'm Guinevere, but most call me Gwen.” She smiled tentatively “As for the reason... It's a long tale, but I'm actually here with someone." And since the woman likely had more information, she added: "We're looking for a Mortaeus flower.”

“Goodness.” The shock on her face was glaring. “Gwen, dear, are you aware of what you are saying?”

“I am.” She answered gravely. “We need it for an antidote, for our dear friend had been poisoned. It's a matter of life or death.”

“Goodness.” She repeated slowly. “If it's an antidote you need...”

She breathed, and made a sign at Gwen to follow her.

“Let's leave this wrecked place first, would you mind?”

“Most obliged.” Gwen gladly followed her. “But if I may Alice, what is it that you wanted to accomplish here?”

“A thing most foolish too, I'm afraid.” Her face was hard to read “I was looking for material to eventually summon...” She stopped herself, as if unbelieving of her own words once spoken aloud. “I must have traveled alone for too long, to convinced myself that this was a good idea.”

The old woman even added after a short pause: “Perhaps meeting you now was a warning to reconsider my folly. Your misfortune may be a godsend, young girl.”

At least her endeavour would have been useful for someone. For as pleasant as this meeting was, Gwen was rather ashamed of how littler she could help Arthur or Merlin in this situation.

“The person you've said you're here with, do you know where they are?”

Gwen shook her head “No, but I have utmost faith in his success. We've let our horse nearby. I think I'd better wait for him there.”

“Finding such a flower would be nothing short of a miracle, you know.“ The woman reached for her bag. “In case your fellow traveller come short, take this. I cannot guaranty that this will help your friend, but my medicine used to have quite the reputation.” the pride in her voice was audible, the old woman was confident in her craft. “There is few curses that could triumph over this potion- trust me on this.”

A healer... Out of all thing, Gwen had found a kind soul here:

“You would give me such a precious thing? You don't even know me.” the gratitude was chocking her. She knew they wouldn't need the potion if everything went well, but it was a great kindness.

“I feel like your someone I should trust- and I'm rarely wrong about that. Know that these potions are only precious if they meet their purpose and help, girl. It was my whole life to do so once upon a time. If you need it enough to come all the way to this terrible place, take it.” She put the flask in Gwen's hands “It's the way things should be.”

“I don't know what to say... I owe you twice over now.” She earnestly looked at the older woman “Please, where may I find you again? I want to pay you back when I can afford to do so.”

The other seemed to find this a bit funny. “Hard to say, I mostly travel. But there is no need to pay me back.”

“This won't do. I won't keep a debt like this one.” She breathed. “If you ever need anything, please ask for me in Camelot and I will answer- I work in the castle. Ask for the blacksmith's daughter and anyone would know to direct you to me.”

“Camelot?” her tone was suddenly stone cold.

“I won't say anything!” Gwen abruptly remembered what the problem could be. “For the magic, don't worry. My lips are sealed.”

“I see. That's not...” She stopped herself. She looked extremely perturbed by that revelation. “I will definitely remember it, at least.”

They kept walking a moment in relative calm. Eventually Alice shook off her strange mood and shared more about her work as a healer. She was passionate, and clearly happy to discover more possibility with her travels. Gwen stayed off personal question and stuck to idle chatter, glad for this distraction.

She kept the details of Merlin's poisoning vague, and the fact that her travelling friend was the prince himself, but did answer some of the healer's interrogation. Sating her curiosity was the very least she could do.

They parted way near the horses. Alice had her own agenda and Gwen no other plan than to wait for Arthur.

While waiting, she toyed with the medicine in her pocket. If Arthur managed to get to the flower again, at least it wouldn't hurt to keep something like this for emergencies...

Arthur brightening up at the sigh of her then rushing to hug, changing his mind, then only awkwardly patting her shoulder had been a rather sweet moment. He didn't deal well with worry, nor guilt, and his running off and losing her had clearly been making him feel guilty. The time however was not at lengthy explantations:

“I'm glad to see you in one piece.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “I have it.” He raised the flower in his hand.

“Thank the lord.” She was pretty sure he would succeed, but it was still a good thing that her interference didn't change that. “I may have something in case it doesn't work. Let's hurry.”

“Yes. But we'll talk about all this, after.” He said it like an order, a bad royal habit that usually got on her nerve. She'll forgive it this time.

“Sir if I may...” She couldn't find a way to word it delicately. “The King explicitly asked for you not to go. I'm not sure he'll take kindly to your return- as triumphant as it would be.”

The man pinched his lips but didn't disagree with her. She continued speaking quietly:

“If I take the flower I could reach Gaius discretely while you show up directly at the gate to placate the King. This way none shall be tempted to make an example out of Merlin for this disobedience.”

“You dare suggest my father would do something so cruel?” He looked genuinely outraged by her suggestion. Yet wasn't it exactly what Uther did a lifetime ago? Crushing the hard-won flower in front of his very eyes. Arthur was no fool, but he often underestimated his father's coldness.

“I'm simply saying that it would be more efficient for me to go directly to Gaius, Sir. I would not dare presume his Majesty's action" Oh yes she dared presume. And she hoped one day his son would see clearly in his him too, without the blindness induced by filial affection. "But we will assuredly be stopped to answer questions at the gate- at the minimum.” 

As presumptuous and cynical that Arthur may found her, he did give her the flower and agreed. As he let go of the stem he said with a heavy voice:

“This is Merlin's life. I am putting my trust in you, do be worthy of it.” Or else, she heard unsaid. It was touching to see him so clearly care for Merlin, so Gwen took no offence from it.

They rode quickly into the night. Their own thoughts swirling in their mind, neither uttered a word.

It briefly crossed Gwen's mind that despite the circumstances it was still nice, spending travelling with Arthur again.

Once the flower delivered, Gaius assurance that Merlin was out of danger and would be alright in the morning, Gwen went directly back to her Lady. She would have to ensure her that her beloved mare was fine and that Gwen herself was unarmed.

Explaining everything to Morgana would be a delicate manner.

The night was still peaceful and warm. Gwen was sitting next to Lady Morgana's bed, a familiar position. They had often talked in similar situation; sometime 'till the early hour of the following day.

They've done it mostly in their younger years, when neither of them had responsibilities that would make them regret staying up so late, but Gwen still remembered these moments fondly. As a child when their discussion went on for too long or the nights were too cold during winter, Gwen had even joined Morgana under the duvet on her bed, giggling like they were doing something illegal in secret.

She was Lady Morgana's maid, but at times she was reminded: she was her dear friend also. Perhaps the only one the lady had in this castle.

“I know you've let out part of the story, Gwen. Arthur told me you two were separated for hours.”

If Arthur took the time despite the situation to update his half-sister, he hadn't extended the courtesy to Gwen.

The man had been in a strange mood since their return. Somewhere between relief for Merlin's cure and confused and hurt by his father's hostility. Had he kept the flower on him; things would doubtlessly been as messy as she had warned him, and he was now aware of it.

She was not insensible to his pain but she hoped it soon became clear to him how wildly different priorities Uther and him have. She hoped he would stop hoping and being disappointed soon and started seeing things for how they were.

“I did, yes.” Gwen paused. “But I'm unsure about what it would be wise to share.”

“You'd keep secrets from me?” The fake-hurt in Morgana's voice was coating actual pain, as if the mere notion of Gwen not trusting her was both unthinkable and terrible.

“I'd trust you with my life and more my Lady. But some secrets are not mine to share.” The flask of unused medicine was burning in her pocket.

“By the gods Gwen, will you please call me Morgana when it's just us two? These days you are so...” She sighed “So distant sometimes, in a way you weren't before. I don't know what I did to cause this.”

“You did nothing wrong!” Not yet, not you. Gwen's heart was twisting unpleasantly in her chest. “You did nothing wrong, Morgana.” She put as much devotion as she could in the word. That she had to spare. “I'm thinking so much lately, my head feels completely elsewhere. I'm sincerely sorry.”

“I know that something is troubling you Gwen, of course I know. I just wish I knew what.” Morgana's eyes were shining with sincerity.

“Old memories, mostly” She said with a half smile, half wince.

“How vague.”

Gwen hummed in answered. Vague but true felt better than a well constructed lie right now.

“I don't know how to talk about all that. But Morgana, my Lady... You're the most important person in my life and know that: until the day I die, I will be proud to serve you.”

Whatever form serving took, whatever path Morgana would end up on. Gwen would not give her up this time. She would not.

Morgana didn't say a word, but she reached for Gwen quietly with her arms. Gwen let herself be guided in an embrace. Like in their youth she went to lay beside her, their hair intertwined on the pillows.

In the dead of a night, under the pale moon glow hitting them from the open window, Gwen felt Morgana's breathing soften as she fell asleep against her chest.

And after a moment of peaceful rest, she felt her shivering body against hers when the recurring nightmares came haunting the pale woman again. Holding her powerlessly she thought: May tragedies spare us.

Chapter Text

Gwen was glad to be out on such a lovely day. She had previously insisted to go with Merlin to pick herbs as an excuse to talk with him privately- and to ensure that he really felt better. Despite agreeing to let her go, when hearing the request, Morgana had looked like she had swallowed a lemon. Her reaction was hard to understand for Gwen...

Since it was becoming impossible to turn the lady away from the idea that her and Merlin were an item, she had figured she might as well roll with it. It made for an easier reason to see him alone than anything else that might appear suspicious. By letting people assume without correcting them her life become significantly easier.

But now Morgana was acting terribly judgmental about her romantic decision. Which, hey! Merlin was a sweet man! What was the point of teasing her so much for it if it was to react like this at the idea that it was serious? She didn't get it. The idea of them together had no reason to shock.

Merlin at confided in her with a sigh that Arthur was certain of it too- and that he was no less annoying about it. No matter her words, he clearly took her joining him to look for the flower as a romantic declaration. Why did he seem so convinced that it had to be the meaning beneath her action? It was so frustrating.

Beside, she hadn't talked to the prince more than the occasional polite salutation since their expedition. It was probably for the best. She was certain they would have other moments to bond, this time spend together having clearly changed the way they perceived one another in spite of how short it was.

And it allowed her to keep for herself the way her journey for the flower went. If it slipped out of Arthur's mind, then good. She would not press and ask for trouble.

That tale was best shared with someone a bit more concerned with the matter.

“You wanted to ask something?” Merlin started. “I feel like you held back when we were talking in the castle.”

“I wanted to be sure we were alone. When we went looking for a cure for you...” She looked at him with a smile “I met someone interesting.”

It was liberating to expose everything to him. She felt like he needed to hear about “good witch” as much as she did, after living in Camelot. More in fact. Did he even know other magic users that didn't try to kill him yet?

He asked less question than she would have expected. Simply joyful at the idea of this witch, he mostly took at face value what Gwen was saying. If he was a bit shaken; it was by the notion of her almost death:

“Gwen... why did you even took the risk to go in the first place? If you had died here, I would never have forgiven myself.”

“But I would have never forgiven myself for doing nothing. I thought it would be a good idea to share my suspicion about this maid with you, and look!” She meant it. The situation could have been solved much less painfully if she had approached it differently. “You paid a hefty price for it.”

“Nonsense. None of that was your fault.” He took a scolding tone. He'd make a nice teacher, she though suddenly. “Be sure to keep that potion for emergency.”

But a troubling idea seemed to come to him and he continued:

“Actually, are we sure you can trust this? Who knows what that woman actually put in it.”

“I trust her.” it was hard to express where this confidence was coming from.

“Hm...”

“She saved me. And I'm a decent judge of characters- I feel like she's a good person.”

He was unconvinced. She could not fault him for this scepticism, but she didn't share his reserve. She could not shake the notion that this woman was one you could trust.

They eventually went back to the task at hand with more idles chatters. Even as isolated as they were, Merlin didn't really used magic to work. He also explained to her that he lacked the expertise and knowledge to precisely pick and choose flowers with his power yet.

It made sense. Such a precise skills must take much training, if it was possible at all. And it was notoriously impossible to train for that in Camelot... But Gwen fascination with the in and outs of how magic worked was growing.

“You said that you were born with it... is it the only way to get magic? Or can anyone learn?”

To that, Merlin looked quite pensive:

“I've never had to learn anything to use it- but I've been told I'm a unique case. In general, from my understanding” he searched for the best way to express his thoughts “It's just that not everyone is going to have the same affinity for it even if they learn. Like druids communities, they are much more attuned to it. Having magic user in the family probably helps. Or maybe just starting early...”

“And if someone like me tried to learn?” she interjected. She hurried to correct herself when seeing his horrified look: “I'm not going to! I won't risk that.” Not now, anyway “But I'm wondering, would that even be possible?”

“I'm not actually sure how that work. I don't see why you couldn't?” A pause. “But I suppose it would be very hard for your body to get used to the feeling of channelling magic if you've never done so. Still, it shouldn't be impossib-” he stopped right in his track.

A loud, terrifying noise was erupting nearby.

“What was that?”

It sounded animalistic. Not quite a growl, more so a bird-like shrill. Could it be a monster? Here? After all, they had walked so far from the castle...

They exchanged a look before starting to run.

Except outrunning a wild beast was never as doable as brave knights would have you believe. In a handful of seconds a imposing creature was flying down near them. It looked enraged, its enormous wings flapped furiously.

Its body was strange: instead of a normal bird-like figure, it had four legs and and dark fur covering it. It clicked suddenly in Gwen's mind:

“A Giffin...” she muttered.

Oh, she remembered it well enough.

She looked at it, still a a statue. The imposing claws of the beast were coming near her at an inhuman speed, ready to tear her apart. For one more time since she'd came back to life, she thought this is the end. I will die here.

And for one more time, it turned out wrong.

For just as it was about to reach her... just as she was going to know a death of the most painful kind...

Merlin outstretched hands were sparkling with light as his eyes were a glowing yellow, more bright than she had ever see. As if fuelled by pure instinct the man shot a ray of blinding energy towards the beast.

The instant it touched it, the Griffin exploded.

A horrifying mess of bloody feather went painting the dirt of the forest's floor. The creature didn't even had time to react, nor to scream, its death leaving place to an deafening silence.

The first thing that came to Gwen's mind was: Oh gods, I'm alive.

The second one was: This certainly didn't happen like this the first time...

“Gwen, are you okay? Gwen!” Merlin's worried voice felt absurd after that display of raw power.

That casual destruction, unbothered, was that the true Merlin? She'd never witness anything like this. For half a second she felt fear. Genuine fear toward him.

Who was this man? Her Merlin had never been like this, terrifying. Or had he?

“Gwen?” His hesitant tone got her off her reveries.

“I, yes. I'm fine. This was... Merlin, what was that?” It was said barely louder than a whisper.

He looked at the remaining of the Griffin an instant, then at his own hands. It was like he was just discovering what he had done. He answered her in a shaking voice:

“I don't know. I thought you were going to die and I just” he made a little gesture with his hands “I reacted.” He added slowly “I'm just... glad you are safe.”

“Yes... thank you.” She took a deed breath. “You definitively saved my life, so thank you Merlin.”

She needed time to process how terrifying the whole thing had been. And to accept once and for all the power that her friend held. It was one thing to be told all the things he had accomplished- quiet another to realized that yes, he really was able to do all that.

(Holding her hand as she wilted away, a raspy voice: “I'm powerful Gwen. So powerful. For someone who never achieved anything I tried to; it is the greatest irony. You cannot even imagine...” Her tired eyes closed, his shivering palm in hers “You have no idea what I'm capable of.”)

As they were barely calming down, a deep voice made them both jump. A man, standing a few feet away, was looking at them with a dumbfounded look on his face and a sword hanging loosely in his right hand. Gwen understood that he'd likely been there for the whole thing:

“I heard the beast and I came to help, but... I suppose I'm not needed?”

Oh, great heavens.

Lancelot.

It was fascinating to realise how calm the to-be-knight had been about magic. She knew from Merlin's deathbed tale that Lancelot was aware of his power the first time, but she doubted he learned about it in such a bloody way.

Or perhaps he had. She couldn't be sure of anything where Merlin was concerned.

And it turned out knowing Merlin acted to protected a damsel in distress (that Gwen was getting really, really tired of being) was deemed good enough of a reason for the virtuous Lancelot to fully support him this time again, she shouldn't even be surprised.

It was endearing to see the two men get along so well. They'd done nothing but talk all the way from the forest to Camelot, and it reminded Gwen of how things used to be before his death. What was far from endearing though, was the tender look in his eyes when Lancelot was looking at her.

This was another limbo than her awkwardness with Arthur. Thinking about what went wrong between Lancelot and her, because of evil magic's influence- it was truly, truly painful. She could not entertained the idea of responding positively to his infatuation. Even now where nothing bound them to anyone else... it was unthinkable. The sole idea made her nauseous.

She felt a bit sorry for the man, because she could feel how hot and cold she was acting. It was hard to communicate I'm glad you're alive, I'm glad you're well, Please leave me alone in the same look. She was lost about how to act, again, with this part of her past she hadn't made her peace with.

She'd hope to at least make his coming to Camelot less messy this time. As he was passionately sharing his dream of knighthood to them she softly cut him off:

“I don't want to be rude, but I do hope you are aware of the First Code of Camelot.”

Lancelot frowned “I'm not sure I follow.”

“If you're not of noble blood, then you cannot serve as Camelot's knight.” He looked baffled, and so did Merlin. “I'm sorry. I'd rather you learn it from me now than later in front of the King.”

“Such a law... And there's no way around it?” it looked like his life was crumbling around him. Gwen felt deeply sorry for him. It was incredibly unlucky that he didn't learn about this before.

“But this is unfair!” Merlin looked revolted. Lancelot's quick acceptance of him made him root for his knightly dreams quite strongly already, and these new informations were disheartening. “Surely there's a way!”

“Of changing King Uther's mind?” She rose an eyebrow evocatively. “And don't even think about lying about Lancelot's lineage, they can easily check it.” Maybe not easily, but the white lie could slide. They definitively found out one way or another the first time.

“I would never dare!” Lancelot looked appalled.

But considering Merlin's expression... it had been a very necessary comment. Of course it had been Merlin's idea in the first place. It was like the man loved to create more problem for himself.

Still Gwen felt a bit bad for her harshness. While she didn't regret her words, she didn't want to accidentally prevent the knight's future rise to greatness.

“There's no harm in staying in Camelot a while still. The Prince could be more receptive to your plea, at the very least.” it was all she could offer for now.

“The prat better be.” Between her explanation and Merlin's rudeness toward royalty, poor Lancelot was loosing all the colour in his face at a record speed.

In the end, Lancelot agreed to stay for a time with Merlin.

And if for a few days she managed to catch Arthur looking like he was going through all the emotions under the sun and argue with his manservant even more than usual, well. Whatever form it took it was clear that important discussion were had and progress was happening; this was all she wanted.

If they needed public sword fight and shouting match for anything to happen, who was she to stop them? She did sighed a good amount of time during the couple of weeks of his sejour.

Morgana only laughed.

“I'm almost sad to see our charming would-be commoner knight leave. Arthur's face these last days was quite entertaining, don't you think?” To no one's surprise, she was in full support of the idea of letting the noble-only law to the side. And watching Arthur be miserable always cheered her up.

“Oh I think they managed got along in the end.” She smiled. “Lancelot is rather passionate about his dream, that's an admirable quality.”

“My my, quite the compliment. Isn't Merlin jealous of hearing you talk like that about other men?”

Gwen didn't dignify the jab with an answer. She sincerely hoped Morgana's incomprehensible fixation on her love life would calm down soon. Rather, she stirred the conversation back on its track:

“Since he told us he would travel quite far, I talked to him about Elyan. Maybe he'll come across him and convinced him to come home, who knows.” She tried to keep her voice neutral but by the way Morgana's face fell, it wasn't a success.

She knew that her brother was still alive now. Still, how she missed him...

“Oh Gwen.” Her voice was much softer than before. “I'm sure you'll have news soon. He cares so much about you! I find it impossible to imagine him giving up on you.”

It was a bit awkward as far as reassurance went, but Gwen could feel her sincerity and it surprisingly soothed her a little. A kind word from Morgana always helped her spirit.

“I suppose.” She look on the side pensively. “Oh, and I hope the whole situation made people think about the First Code. So many laws just stay the way they are because no one dare to put their legitimacy in question. Why would a commoner knight be an heresy?”

“Obviously we are in agreement about that.” The lady nodded. “I'm glad Arthur is not so dull not to hear people around him. It took time” she rolled her eyes in exasperation “but he did listen somewhat. Even if that doesn't change a thing. It's more than I expected from Uther's son.”

Despite the dry compliment lady Morgana looked proud of him. She was starting to see Arthur grow and distance himself from his father's way. It warmed Gwen's heart.

“Maybe he'll allow it when it's his time to rule. And maybe” Gwen couldn't help herself but continue, half joking, half wondering. “Maybe he'll even allow women in the new order.”

The concept had a hard time leaving her mind.

“Gwen!” Morgana clearly hadn't expected the comment. She looked delighted. “Looking to flee my service to take up the sword?”

Making a exaggerated bow, Gwen took a solemn voice:

“I'll gladly be your devoted knight, my Lady.”

Laughing softly at her antic Morgana took a rolled up piece of parchment on the shelve next to them and lightly hit her shoulder successively.

“It shall be my honour and yours both, oh great knight. Go and be worthy of your new title; for I shan't accept anyone else in my ranks.”

Gwen smiled, returning to her work with a deliberate haughty attitude under Morgana amused glance. Maybe she was no knight, no mage, no genius either.

But whatever came next, it stood no chance against her will.

Chapter Text

Gwen was standing arms-crossed before the hearth in the middle of the kitchen. The cooks surrounding her were showing a mixture of amusement and incredulity at the sight, temporally stopping in their track to watch the show.

A bouquet of colourful flowers was turning to ashes in the flames.

“What's in God's name is going on here? Why made all of you lazy ass stopped working?” Audrey shouted while approaching the scene.

She was a corpulent woman with a mean temper and a steel work ethic who Gwen had come to deeply appreciate with the years. She'd been the head-cook for many many years, and would be for many more. Unwavering and imperturbable.

“Good morning m'am. I'm simply borrowing the fire for a moment.” She answered neutrally.

“What Gwen means is that she lost her goddamn mind, that's what it is.” Laura, who'd been standing next to her, was looking decisively more pale than the cooks. She had followed Gwen to the kitchen earlier, probably in the hope to stop her, and was now afraid of being guilty by association.

She needn't be worried. Gwen would own this decision without any hesitation.

“What...?” Audrey came closer, the pan she had been holding switching slowly to a menacing position. “You'd best explain fast, Gwen.”

“This bouquet was too improper to remain in the castle, so I'm disposing of it.”

“A mysterious gentleman offered Lady Morgana flowers earlier.” Laura explained. She certainly wanted to share her side with people who'd understand her desolation. “And Gwen took it upon herself to burn it! Without any reason!”

“Oh, there was a bug in it.” A deadly, magic bug. Who she wouldn't allow close to her lady again, everything be damned.

Burning the whole bouquet felt like a perfectly reasonable reaction. Much more than letting the past repeat itself.

“A bug!” Laura wailed. “ There was no sight of anything of the sort, you stupid girl. Do you have any idea of the consequence of destroying royal properties?”

Surprisingly, the head-cook didn't look shocked at the explanation. She looked at Gwen with almost... pity? This reaction was not what she'd been expecting. She'd been gearing up for a one-sided shouting match over the issue, she dreaded to imagine what Audrey was imagining.

“Gwen, lass...” Her usual explosive tone had turned almost maternal. “I understand how hard it is for you. But didn't you move away from this foolishness? A young girl's fancy is a harmless thing. But you are all grown up now. You've got a nice boy at your side. And jealousy’s one hell of an ugly sin.”

Huh?

“Those blue bloods live in a different word than us common folk, it ain't no use even thinking about it. She's gonna end up with a rich, noble lad and leave you in the dirt; it's just the way it is. You can't fight it.”

Wait, wait a damn minute...

“No one here want you to catch trouble over this. But you have something real to build with that Merlin of yours now, so you need to let this go before there's serious consequence. You just can't just go around burning the gifts of all her suitors!”

The cook had her hands on her hips, the pan oscillating sadly in tandem with her disapproving head. She was looking at Gwen with an air of someone who'd just said an obvious but necessary wisdom, as if it was normal to work under the assumption that...

“But I'm not jealous. I'm not-” Gwen had a hard time getting the words out, they left her lips as a strange whisper. “I'm not in love with lady Morgana.”

Laura was looking at her with round eyes. One of the younger cook in the crowd had her hands in front of her mouth, eyes glistening.

She could have swore to hear another one of them whispered “Oh, how tragic...”

What was this insanity? Why was everyone so quick to believe this? That was not logical in the slightest!

Sure her and Morgana were close. They'd known each other for years, since childhood. Gwen had seen Morgana acclimate to the castle after her father's death, Morgana had confide in Gwen like she hadn't any other. They spent most of their time together. 

Of course Gwen wanted above everything to save Morgana from her fate. She was her closest and best friend, whom she failed to help when she needed. That was all there is to it. Was it not?

“There really was a bug! In the bouquet, there was...” Why was her voice shacking? “There was just a bug in the bouquet.” So weak, hesitant. It didn't even convince herself when she knew her own words to be true.

“Dear Lord, Gwen...” Laura's tone was hard to decipher. The washerwoman then put a tentative hand on Gwen's shoulder. “Calm down, we'll say there was a bug. It ain't got to be that serious.”

Never in all her lives combined would Gwen had consider her coworker a friend. Laura was someone with whom she'd disagree on plenty topics- about magic, about women's place in the word, about so many things. She liked her sometimes, admired her on the occasion, tolerated her often. But a friend?

It was like she suddenly realized she didn't know her at all. Her reaction to her (absolutely unfounded) assumption was both shocking and heart-warming. It was nice, to know she would take her side in such situation.

“...Thank you.”

“But you really need to let go of these impulsive decision. Don't break that poor servant boy's heart for a folly like this, for the Lord's sake.” She sighed while dragging Gwen outside of the room. "Could end much worst."

Some of the cooks waved them goodbye, the other already focused on their work. Audrey gave her a stern look, but also a kind nod as they left. Gwen herself felt in a weird haze.

So people thought, what? That she was hopelessly in love with her lady and dated Merlin in the hope to move on? When she wasn't even actually dating him... She was destined to be misunderstood it seemed. What a mess.

Not to mention than dodging around helpful assumption and dangerous misunderstandings was more delicate than it seemed. She couldn't just correct everyone carelessly: people thinking her and Merlin was an item was sometimes weirding her out but, it was better than them thinking of magic.

As for Morgana...

Her cheeks strangely heated, she chased the thoughts away from her head.

Now it was time to handle the rest of the mess Edwin Muirden would cause as best as she could. With hope, it would be much less dramatic this time.

Standing in the room next to Gaius without Merlin as buffer was uncomfortable. Gwen was playing with her sleeve, siting near the table where the man was busying himself.

She had found herself quite smart to flee here to be alone. She must not have been the only one.

Her intervention concerning the fake physician's evil design, she didn't know how to feel about it. It was a bit like Valiant at the end of the day: by searching a way to spare the blood on Merlin's hand, she had fed the pyre even more soul.

For the man had burned, like his parents before him, while Gwen felt bile threatening to spill from her lips.

Were those crimes deserving of death, perhaps. But he was not tried for them. He was tried and judged guilty of sorcery and this was why he burned. And Gwen... she was responsible for this. Those cruel execution where on her. She would not mourn him nor Valiant a iota, and yet. And yet.

Trying to tip off Sir Ewan (who was still alive and well, and always happy to speak to her) about Edwin's strange dealings to keep him away from the castle had led the knights to discover his secret. From that point on it was out of her hands. But shouldn't she had known that it would end this way? It always did- no middle ground ever existed in Camelot.

At the very least she had spared lady Morgana a word of pain, Merlin a death on his conscience, and avoided Gaius many trouble.

But said man, much like her, didn't seem at peace at all.

“Gaius, if I may.” She started, carefully. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Of course. Why would I not?” his voice was falsely calm, and he didn't look at her. “Did you need something specific when you came here, Gwen? Merlin must be with the prince at this hour.”

“No, no. It's just.” Trading delicately. “Did you know him? The sorcerer.”

Gaius pinched his lips in visible perturbation “Did I give off that impression?”

“It seemed that way to me, yes.”

Nothing more to add. The tension could be cut with a knife. Eventually the older man took a deep breath, and started his tale about the tragic child who was burn.

She knew the story. But in her humble opinion: it was better to let it out in the open. Gaius was similar to the boy he took under his wing in the way that he kept everything under wrap, never letting anyone know.

The one who knew him the most was probably Uther, the one who had condemned his brethren to death and made him complicit. What kind of deeply unbalanced friendship was this? Gwen could barely comprehend the mutual trust between the men.

In the silence that followed his tale Gwen allowed herself to add softly:

“Seems a waste doesn't it. All this senseless hatred.”

“A dangerous sentiment to voice.”

She hummed. Let him draw whatever conclusion he wanted from this intervention, Merlin would told him she knew about his own magic soon enough. She hoped.

But as she was about to leave, not sure what to add to the conversation, her eyes wandered on the shelves on the wall full of little flasks and other mixtures. It was like a flash went off in her mind.

Oh Lord. She suddenly remembered just who was Alice, the witch who had previously given her an antidote. So she'd accidentally met Gaius great love huh?

Perhaps there was another thing to make right, here. 

This was one less mystery to keep her from sleep, at least...

Gwen spent the evening quietly with her father. She was still not over the simple joy of spending time with him. She really took for granted his comforting presence.

“Gwen, come her a minute would you.”

She approached curiously. He was growing more and more open with her. He'd share tips on how to fight, how to forge- anything she had to fight tooth and nails to learn before he had taken to offer her on a sliver plate.

Had he never understood her desire to know about his work previously? Had her brother departure made him change his point of view on her value as a daughter? She felt like she was getting to know him for the first time since she started to seek out his company more actively in this life.

“Would you look at this?”

He was holding a sword. It was a gorgeous one- of fine crafting, delicate handle, a one-of a kind piece. And mostly it was one that Gwen would recognize among any other.

“This is...” Arthur's sword. The one he so proudly called Excalibur.

“My finest work.” He smiled proudly. “A degree of perfection you achieve once in a lifetime.”

It didn't make any sense. Arthur pulled this sword for a rock, didn't he? From the old legends.

But, wait. Gwen also had different memories. Her giving her father's finest sword to Merlin... she could sense something shady had happened in the shadow. Without the blur of the years passing by, the situation was clearer.

Another one of her friend's lie then. A slight moment of frustration toward Merlin went through her. The man really was hard to follow, sometimes. She hoped he had a good reason for his shenanigans. Her father unaware of her wavering mood just kept talking:

“I don't have a lot to pass on to you, daughter mine. But this one- this one is yours. You can do with it what your heart see fit to.” His gaze was warm.

“This is a priceless gift...” She was interrupted by the sheath being placed in her hands. Her father closed her finger on the leather, his mind made on the issue.

She understood then that it was not a decision taken on the spot. He had time to decide that this was what he wanted to do, and all that it symbolized. She was touched beyond words.

“I will cherish it and use it well, be assured of that.” She pulled him in a quick embrace, careful when moving the sword. “Thank you so much. For everything.”

“No, no.” His voice was full of emotion. “I'm the one thankful, to have a daughter like you.”

The night fell on them peacefully.

(In a room not so far away, a woman was having a much more troubled night. She woke with a scream and her head full of a familiar man drowning and falling to the deepest depth of a lake...)

Chapter Text

Under the fragile light of the morning and the silky cloth covering her bed, Morgana had finally managed to fall back asleep. Gwen was watching the fabric rise, and fall, in the slow rhythm of her breath. Her lady was pale like a corpse.

She had a nightmare once more. One full of anguish and death, one full of the future.

Gwen had found her when she arrived in her chamber to do her chores, Morgana was had been tired but wide awake. Searching to appease her fear. Searching to avoid confronting the ugly truth about her peculiar dreams.

(“I had another dream. I saw Arthur lying under water, drowning... and there was a woman standing over him. Watching him die.”)

What was there to comfort? Arthur was once more courting his own death, that was true. There was no point in denying the threat that represented Sophia of Tir-Mòr and the Sidhe. It was becoming more and more obvious that Morgana's nightmares were more than just unpleasant dreams.

Gwen let her fingers gently course through the jay hair of the woman on the bed. She remembered her troubled sleep, of course, but it was somehow worse to live through it again. Especially since she was now aware of the layers of tragedy of the situation.

Was Morgana always so frail? In her memory she was by turn an unstoppable strength destroying Camelot on her path, and a knight ready to fight for her justice until her last breath. The way she was a human made of humble flesh sometimes evaded her.

Caring for Morgana wasn't unlike watching a flame: it meant worrying of both a fire erupting and an abrupt gust of wind extinguishing it all.

She felt the woman waking up once more, sooner than she would have hoped. She didn't do much other than curl on her side without a sound.

“Morgana... whatever your dreams mean” She started saying softly “I'll always be on your side. We'll figure it out.”

“So you think they mean something.” Her head was facing away from Gwen. “You think I'm going insane?”

“No. I don't think that you're insane at all.” Not yet, never if the world would allow it.

She let her lady rise and helped her get dressed in relative silence. The dress that Morgana had chosen was dark, with ample sleeves. She made quite a tragic picture, with her tired eyes. But even then, even there...

She looked as beautiful as always.

“I should probably see Gaius about this. See if I can get more sleeping draught.”

Gwen pinched her lips tight. The man never helped. The most he ever did for Morgana was not exposing her to Uther, but his way of keeping her in the dark felt cruel in insight. He had to know about her magic, she was sure of it.

“You don't think I should?” The lady was looking at her, face closed off. Gwen's distaste must have been blatant on her face.

“Those never seem to help much.”

“It's better than nothing.”

“But is it?” She breathed, trying to keep herself focus on her task. “Maybe it's not the way this need to be handled.”

“You do love to contradict me, Gwen.” Morgana's voice was cutting. “What kind of infinite wisdom you have more than us over something happening to me one might wonder. Please kindly offer your miraculous solution.”

“My apologies. I didn't mean...” Aah, she missed the mark.

It was so frustrating to talk to Morgana sometimes. One day she loved her boldness, the other she was ready to pounce on any behaviour that stepped out of the line. Gwen's bluntness had poor timing this time. It was true that she could not outright say what she meant, exactly, so she couldn't be too mad at Morgana for being annoyed at her unhelpful critics.

“Forget it.” The lady walked away gracefully, in an apparent sour mood. “We'll talk more tonight.”

Way to start off the day.

Gwen sighed bitterly. Now, how would everything play out? She was starting to realise that Arthur was courting death quite often. Praying that she would not be the one to ruin his lucky survival streak...

She spent more time near the knight's training ground than usual today.

As a way to figure out a solution of course. Not at all to avoid Morgana. That would have been quite petty of her, which Gwen wasn't at all.

“Gwen, lovely to see you there.” Sir Leon smiled as he came closer. “You're alright?”

“I'm fine, and you?” She smiled back. While they weren't that close per say, the knight always made her think of her mom, who had spend decades serving his house. She liked to exchange a few words here and there. “Those poor new recruits look rough.”

The young men on the field looked both tired and disinterested. They came from good families, and while training to fight was a standard for noble it wasn't with the strictness and rigour that was asked of them here. Camelot's royal knights were hold to higher expectation.

“Aah, don't tell me.” He looked discouraged. “These lads don't know anything about hard work. Sometimes I wish we could train up farm boys instead, I'll tell you that. They wouldn't be half the trouble.”

Despite it being fleeting words not meant to be taken as more than a jab toward the young nobles, it made Gwen a little happy. Sir Leon hadn't needed much convincing for the knight requirement change Arthur made last time around- and she was sure he wouldn't need much in this timeline either.

“One day I hope.” She then added, like a secret: “I know my brother would have loved to join you.”

He didn't answer immediately. He felt probably awkward about talking about him. Her brother was such a calm and serious man, his abrupt departure had shocked many people around and not only Gwen.

“Still no news?”

“No. But I'm sure he's okay.” She shook her head. “Sorry for bringing him up.”

“No, no. I don't mind, don't feel like you have to keep things for yourself if you ever want to talk about it more. I really hope he gives sign of life soon.”

She shot him a grateful smile. He was a really kind man, and would stay so despite the hardship life would throw him. It had been an honor to have him in her ranks during her reign.

“Hey, Gwen...” His gaze shifted to become more serious. “I would like to ask a service of you.”

“Is there a problem?”

“This morning the Prince came back to the castle with a woman. Something about it is just...” A pause. “Can you try to learn more about her? Watch her behaviour? Prince Arthur wouldn't hear any of it, but the situation is unsettling.”

He looked nervous about his request. It sounded a bit strange if you didn't have the context. But not to fear, Gwen had it.

She wouldn't let Sophia stray far from her gaze.

Right now, it was Merlin she was starring at without flinching.

“That is really not the time for idle questioning Gwen.”

“Can you just answer?”

“If you didn't notice” he sounded exasperated. “I'm having a bit of a crisis here. This lady is for sure bad knew- I need to figure it out.”

“Oh thank you Merlin for reminding me.” Her own tone was no better than his. “Well maybe I'm speaking about it because it's related to the topic, but who knows. Perhaps I am just that stupid.”

He threw his hands up like he was the one dealing with the impossible. He eventually answered her question, dryly:

“Prophecy tend to be more trouble than anything else, we're not helping Arthur with any of that.”

“What do you mean...?” He was clearly thinking about something specific, she was still, still, missing pieces of the puzzle. “But I'm not asking about prophecy as such, not quite. I was more asking about seeing the future. Really having a vision.”

He frowned his brows. She kept going.

“Like divination magic I suppose. Does this exist? Do you know how it work?”

She had initially engage the discussion asking for more information about prophetic dreams, hoping to orient the discussion toward Morgana's vision. After all it was strange that Morgana never had to learn magic and was seemingly using it against her will. Knowing more could mean that Gwen could help her in the future.

“Gwen.” He interjected, serious. “What are you really asking?”

“I think...” she paused. She had debated over and over with herself about opening up to Merlin about it. It wasn't her secret. But overall, wouldn't it be good? Where could she draw the line between helping and betraying? She was convinced that this discussion needed to happen one way or another.

How did Merlin discover Morgana's magic the first time, she wasn't sure. It hadn't been much help for her that much Gwen knew. And he hadn't felt the need to inform Morgana of his own power in return.

Would telling him about the vision and talk about Sophia plan really help? Or would it cause more problem in the long run?

The silence stretched out. She was second-guessing herself to the point where she regretted bringing it up at all.

“What do you mean, about prophecies being trouble?” She couldn't do it. Telling too much felt like stabbing Morgana in the back, she just couldn't. The conversation just had to shift.

And that prophecy, she had to get to the bottom of this. She had pieces of information that sometimes matched sometimes clashed in a bizarre mix. What she had from the old Merlin had not been told as a guideline, and was incomplete and incomprehensible in part. She could not really relie on it for more than the basis. And this Merlin would never open up on his own, it just wasn't something he was used to do. 

She hoped one day he could learn to do so. Now, she would have to take initiative.

“Wait, Gwen.” He was still frowning, unsure. “What were you...”

“Nevermind what I meant before. It was stupid.” She forcefully cut him off. “But you seemed very sure. Merlin,” She was about to be rather hypocritical. “You don't have to tell me everything, but I'm on your side. We're in this together now. It's really not the first time that you bring up things like that without expanding on it. I'll never judge you for your magic so why are you being so secretive? I don't understand. I'll help you if I can- I really will.”

None of that was a lie. It was just terribly ironic considering how much she herself was hiding from him. She was starting to understand the man talking at her deathbed better than she would have wanted.

Because the more time she spent living this second life the more she understood his needs to keep silent. Still, being upfront about her knowledge of the future was something she did not entertain doing, no matter how much she would have to feign ignorance. Nothing good would come from the truth in this matter.

She would not judge the old mage's choices, since it seemed she was doomed to make similar ones. Maybe they were close friends for a reason.

To what she had said this Merlin stayed silence. He closed his eyes as if painted, then re-opened them in a new determination:

“How about I just show you?”

Whatever decision he had reach within himself seemed to have cost him. Gwen could not bring herself to regret.

If she wanted to fix everything, she would have to know what was broken.

“Promise you will let me explain?” Merlin said with a pleading voice.

He was not filling her with much faith. Following him silently, Gwen was starting to rotated all her theories in her head- trying to figure out where the hell he was leading her.

To something. Someone? Merlin's knowledge of the prophecies, including the one linking him and Arthur which she was somewhat aware of, must have come from somewhere. She kind of assumed it was from one of the druids initially, but this turned out wrong since he had yet to meet them.

How much information did he have, how trustworthy was his source, so were the big questions. But never would she have expected the sigh awaiting her.

Should she have? It made sense. It genuinely did, when thinking about it. It explained a lot of the holes in her knowledge of the future.

Yet at the same time, wasn't it the most insane thing also? Merlin's secrets and lies truly were endless.

“Merlin, that's...” Her shock was mixed with fascination. Merlin was anxiously looking at her, waiting for a scream or an effusion of some kind. But she was mostly feeling a detachment unlike anything she had before.

What was left to say indeed, facing the beast that once raged on the kingdom.

“His name is Kilharrah.”

How was this possible?

The dragon was chained, menacingly silent. It was hard to tell for how long he'd been there, under the castle. Had he escaped the first time? Were the chains that restrained him slowly wearing out? Gwen felt a chill run down her spine.

“Would you care to explain yourself, Merlin?” The voice was deep, old, resonating in Gwen's mind like it was spoken aloud.

The reptile was talking.

“She's a friend of mine, an ally. I trust her. She already know of my magic, wouldn't it be better for her to know what's at stake?”

“Camelot's fate rest on your shoulder, young warlock. Yours destiny is to be carved out of your hands. This woman has her part to play in what's to come, but it is not to help you in such way.” The dismissal came so easily.

Was her part to marry Arthur and stay quiet? Letting the futur run its course? No.

“And who are you to decide my role in all this?” Gwen could barely recognise her voice. But despite the quiver ruining her assurance, she could not stay quiet. “What do you know about what any of us are capable of?”

“Quite the fearless one.” His imposing body moved without grace, repositioning himself to face her better. His yellow eyes were burning. “I know more about Camelot's destiny that you could comprehend, neither of you. ”

She faced him, a strange anger rising in her chest.

(“Every choice I made... I listened his advices too little, or maybe too much. I don't know if the path I would have taken without his input would have been worse. Maybe I would just have failed from the start.” A deep sigh from the man. “It feels unfair to blame him for what when wrong. Lord knows I wanted someone to help me when I came to Camelot, and he was there at last.” A press on her hands, comforting. A soft voice:“Is destiny truly an unavoidable force?”)

Many things came back to her and clicked in her mind. Like putting pieces of a terrible puzzle together.

She'll never get to know everything about what the old Merlin did. Was the dragon in front of her a friend or a foe, it was probably a more nuanced answer. But something about is certitude of the immutability of the future made her mad.

Morgana and her dreams came to her in a flash. Knowing the future truly is a curse...

“But you know nothing about what humans are able to achieve.” Like her words awoke something in him, he stood straight and opened his massive wings.

“I know everything about what humanity is capable of.” The chained maintaining him chimed in a choral of metallic sound. “And what they are not.” His dangerous gaze did not falter.

“I don't believe that's true. The action of some do not define the capacity of other.” She was still trembling but somehow, she was more at peace talking to this beast than she had been in a while. “And prophecies are a warning, or a hope- not a path carved in the stone.”

“Ah!” It sounded almost like a snort. “Destiny will come for you whether you accept it or not. To ignore it is only to go toward it faster.”

“I do not believe that to be true.” She had to trust in her ability to change fate. Over-wise nothing she did mattered “And I never will.”

To change the past was to defy forces greater than herself, but she would do it. For her friend from another life, for Morgana, for herself.

She would.

In the end, the dragon did not entertain them for much longer. The one thing he explained to her was that Arthur and Merlin were two pieces of the same coin, a coin that would unite Albion and magic. The how was as vague as they came. And about what he was doing chained here, where his knowledge came from, how he met Merlin, nothing was said.

Gwen understood that that discussion was best kept for later, especially since Merlin did not speak much during all this. He mostly looked at her with a complicated look on his face.

Her behavior had raised questions and she would have to answer for them, eventually.

She left the cave with a newly rekindled determination and also, somehow, the desire to prove a dragon wrong.

Merlin's curiosity about what went on had no time to develop, since Arthur had taken a head dive into danger in the couple of hours he was left unsupervised. It was almost a blessing to focus on Sophia again considering.

It was a situation where Gwen did not had much opportunity to intervene, and whatever Merlin did the first time, he handled it again. The atmosphere between them had yet to lose its awkwardness and she didn't felt like pressing him for explanation about what went on.

Sophia was most likely dead, wasn't she?

She wondered how Merlin was holding up. No one else knew the burden of the tasks that befell him but somehow Arthur's insufferable antics seemed to make him smile. It was not enough but it did make her think: if Arthur knew, it would solve so much.  But how much was there to unlearn before? About the word, magic, assumption. There was no universe where this secret didn't break something in the prince, but it didn't have to be a bad thing.

She would talk to Merlin tomorrow. If not for having a longer discussion about the dragon, and prophecies, then at least to try to cheer him up.

Stuck in her head, she hadn't realized she was already before Morgana's door. Time to face the music.

Opening carefully, she was ready to everything.

Morgana was sitting on the side of her bed, looking in the distance. She greeted Gwen with a small nod and started talking:

“I have to apologise, Gwen. I was out of line this morning.” She pat the fabric next to her. “ Would you mind come next to me a moment?”

She looked serious. There was a solemnity to her that Gwen did not see that often.

“It's completely fine.” Gwen went next to her with soft steps. “I know I tend to speak my mind without thinking, I'm sorry.”

“No, I like that you talk freely around me.” She squeezed Gwen's left hand in her right one, both resting on the space between them. “ I sincerely do. You're the only one I consider a close friend here, I never want you to feel like you have to restrain yourself.”

“The only one? What about Arthur?” She teased lightly.

“Hmf.” She made a disgusted face. “That idiot barely know what feelings are, let's not take him into account. You're the only friend that count.”

Gwen laughed quietly in response. How typical.

After a moment of silence, Morgana resumed speaking:

“I never went to Gaius in the end.”

“You didn't?” That was a surprising change from her timeline. She hadn't really expected Morgana to do so.

“No. Gwen, I thought a lot about my dreams today. About how I saw Sophia's face before she came to the castle, and how it's not the first time that something like this happens.” Her voice was low. “I don't think I should talk about my nightmares to anyone anymore.”

“Morgana, what are you...?”

Her blueish, grayish pale eyes piercing Gwen copper's ones as she uttered the following words:

“I think it may be magic.”

Chapter Text

A lot of moments in Gwen life had felt like turning points.

Being assigned to be Morgana's aid as she was a child. Her mother proud, proud gaze as she said “Yes, you can trust my little Gwen for this. She won't disappoint.” The warm sense that she was doing right in life. That was probably the earliest memory she could really pinpoint, the true start of what felt like real life.

Later with her mother death, her brother departure, the dream turning sours. The loneliness that settled in as she kept her struggles hidden. For the first time, her certitudes in life crumbling around her.

Then her father death. Morgana slow drive to madness. It felt like no matter how much she grew and tried to build a better tomorrow things were only getting worst.

And Lancelot, Arthur... the memories were half sweet and half bitter. Was there good in a terrible situation or awfulness in a nice one? How to view it was more complicated than it first appeared. She was to this day incapable of untangling the complicated feelings linked to theses moments.

Then again, her second chance at life had felt like an honest blessing in her eyes. That was pretty telling on what her feelings about her life were, wasn't it? It was just hard to accept.

The point being, turning points. Dreadful hopeful things that were better spotted in insight.

There was no need to wait or think about it to spot this one, deep into the pale eyes of the woman in front of her.

“Morgana...?” her voice was thin, barely breaking the silence that had taken place between them. Morgana did not avert her gaze.

“I think,” she repeated “that it may be magic.”

Gwen was stunned. It may be the first time since she came back since she felt such genuine shock. What compelled her lady to act this way? What had made her had this revelation, what possibly could have made her confess to her?

Despite Gwen's desperate wish to change Camelot's fate, she hadn't done anything drastic yet, had she? Barely any changes at all in the grand scheme of things. Saving an unfortunate knight, discovering a handful of Merlin's secrets... it was not nothing, but it scarcely explained that big of a shift in her eyes.

Morgana's low voice rose between them again:

“But you already knew that, didn't you.”

Ah, so that was what it is. Gwen's inability to keep some her knowledge hidden. Betrayed by her face and her eyes and the words that awkwardly spilled out of her mouth without grace, this would indeed explain her change in demeanour from Morgana's point of view.

“I had my suspicion.” She replied slowly. “Morgana, I-”

“It's so obvious when I pause to look at the facts. It must have been even more so from an outsider point of view. What I was saying to you about my dreams and what was happening outside, how laughingly simple.” Her tone was dry, imbued with a strange misery. “No wonder you were acting so strange. So what was it then? What made you understand?”

Their hands were still locked together. It was a gesture so natural for them, it was rare to stop and focus on the feeling of their skin touching. Today Gwen took all her strength from this sensation to keep talking.

“A flame.” A lie, a truth. “One morning next to your pillow... I thought a fire would start.” It did. Maybe it wouldn't ever now. “Your dream and your pain, it didn't sound like something out of the natural course of things. It's just... Morgana, I...”

She let out a bitter giggle. The sound froze Gwen's blood. It was so close, too close to how another version of her beloved friend sounded.

Morgana had let go of her hand to stand up, pacing in the room.

“And you didn't think to just tell me?”

“How could I?” Her voice was hoarse. “My lady, Morgana, how ever could I have said that?”

“We're friend! You are,” Morgana's emotion were overwhelming to hear “you are my dearest friend!”

“But I am also your maid.” The word resonated like a slap would have. Morgana was looking at her like it was her first time seeing her.

Gwen could not quite explain from where this resentment came to her. It was like something from a lifetime ago that never got to explode. She could scarcely believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

“You can dismiss me in a sentence or two. No matter what I said, it's only through your good-will that my words have any value outside. You are the king's ward. Are you really asking me to accuse you of sorcery, of all thing? Over a little fire? Do you understand the position that would put me in? I tried-” she bit her lips. “I really tried. To bring up the conversation somehow. Like this morning.”

Gwen let out her own little bitter laugh “I'm terrible at this. I didn't know what to do. Morgana you do mean so much, so much to me I...” She couldn't even articulate what she felt about all this.

Morgana looked at her without a sound. Gwen wondered if she would leave the room, but instead, she sat next to her again.

What a mess.

The more things were out in the open, the less Gwen felt any control over them. What made her believe she could handle all this in the first place, she wondered. This new future was bound to be paved with her mistakes.

“Do you want to leave?” Morgana's voice was faint now “My service, or even Camelot.”

“No! That's not what I meant at all!”

Good God had Gwen messed things up. She abruptly turned to Morgana, embracing her in a powerful hold. The gesture made the noble jump in surprise but she didn't let her go.

If words failed her then her action would have to make up for it.

“I want nothing more than to stay by your side. I'm sorry I couldn't find the courage to be more upfront. I was so lost. So fearful of doing the wrong things, I ended up hurting you anyway. I know you're not like the King yet I still... I was caught up in my own doubts.”

She kept her hug tight. “Magic or not, I'll forever be your knight my Lady.”

She felt Morgana's shiver against her.

“I'm scared Gwen.” In their embrace the mage's raven hair were cascading over Gwen's face. The expensive floral bathing oil scent felt sort of out of place to her, like a wilder and powerful fragrant would have better suited the woman. “I didn't think I would ever feel so out of control of my own body. I never learnt any sort of magic! I don't know how this is possible, but this is the truth. What should I even do? What would people, what would Uther say? I barely feel at my place in this castle as it is.”

There was no true answer that she could give to that. None that would help anyhow. Still she could try:

“Not everyone feel like the laws regarding magic are fair. My lady even if most don't dare speak up you will have people on your side. It can get better, I swear of this.”

Morgana stayed silence, unmoved by her words. She kept talking:

“You were always right Morgana. Magic... magic isn't inherently evil. You needn't fear it.”

“How can you be sure? We don't know the first thing about magic. He made sure of it.” She spat. “All we have left are hatred and lies.”

“It will get better.” Useless words. Then an idea struck her. “I never got around to tell you what I did that one time. Pease let me tell you of a woman I met a while back, while I was searching for Merlin's cure...”

She had no means of contacting Alice, but she hoped talking about her might appease Morgana a little. Tales of sorcery used for good were rarely heard outside of ones of druids. Filling the gap she left in her story also felt right.

It was impossible to betray Merlin's trust and expose his own secret so this was all she could offer.

Despite all the truth she would conceal about her past, what happened in this timeline she would do her best not to hide.

She could only hope for the best from here.

Revelations never had any time to settle and flourish in peace.

How she would have preferred to properly reflect about all the things that mattered! Yet it seemed, be it for a dragon or for magic, that life did not care to pause.

Gwen had spent the night in Morgana's chamber. The both of them had talked more than they had in a good while, well into the start of the morn. About what magic meant, and how Gwen would never turn on Morgana for that. About their different in station too, and how Morgana would never abuse it over their friendship.

This part of the conversation felt foreign. If Morgana had often criticised Uther's reign, and the persecution of magic's users, she never truly seemed to grasp the wide gap of power between the two of them.

In the naïve way of those who had never had to see the weight of their privileges, she lightly admonished the power nobles had over commoners without for one second consider that the system as a whole could be different.

Could Gwen even talk about it? For all she tried to do good as a Queen, and how much she eased the rise in station for folks of all kinds, she never addressed the roots of the problem. She was at lost at what could be done- but that was a cheap excuse for inaction.

Minds couldn't be changed overnight. One needed to cook the public and nobles opinion like a lobster, slowly pushing them toward acceptance without making it seems like any significant change happened. Using the devil's weapons for good if you will.

Perhaps in this life this too could be stirred more decisively, but it was a hope for a long time ahead.

Ah, but all in all, their conversation had been truly enriching on all parts. Gwen was feeling at peace next to the pale woman in the room. Despite the little sleep they had gotten from the night, a deeper tiredness in her soul had finally departed.

They both had the time to dress and start the day when a sudden intrusion turned Gwen's blood stone cold.

“Merlin...?” Next to him was a boy with pale eyes and dark hair. He looked lost and terrified, glued to Merlin's side with desperation.

Gwen recognized him the second she saw him. The realization hit her hard.

Him, it's him, it was him? All along. The little mage they had all rescued... it had been...

She was frozen in place.

“Please, you have to let him hide there. The guards wouldn't dare search the King's ward chamber.” Merlin's panic was transparent.

“What's the meaning of this?” Morgana's eyes were round, but she was already moving to help the child. The boy was leaning slightly one one side. He was wounded, right? Gwen's memories were sliding into places.

“They are going to kill him. Please, just let him-”

The knock on the door interrupted him. Morgana nodded decisively and went to handle the soldiers at the door.

Alone in the room, Merlin the boy and Gwen. The silence was laced with anticipation.

“He's hurt.” She managed, unsure how she did. “Let me...”

“Oh, yes! Thank you.” He looked relieved. A bit awkwardly he added “Gwen, we should probably talk after.”

“We really should. After.”

Talk, talk, talk, that was the only thing she seemed like doing theses days. And she still wasn't good at it in the slightest.

Merlin sighed. As he pushed the silent boy to treat, he started to explain. Gwen suspected that it was to disperse the strange air between them.

“I don't know his name.” Oh, but she knew. “He is a druid- don't worry,” he added when the boy jumped at his words “Gwen is a friend. She doesn't care.”

His trust was surprisingly sweet. Despite everything, he was completely certain of her helping them. It did unclenched a bit of the tension in her.

“It's okay little man.” The words tasted like ashes on her lips. She forced herself to keep steady. “Lady Morgana won't let the guards in.”

Gwen felt like she was in a haze. Morgana came back and Merlin explained again, while she was on auto-pilot. The commotion outside was getting louder.

Gwen hugged the boy that would be a man that she would hate hate hate into a tight hold while his screams covered the sound of a axe falling on a neck.

The mirror exploded.

The boy stayed in the room to rest. He didn't talk, didn't heal, seemingly a shell of himself.

Morgana was more troubled that she ever was. The connection between her and the boy had been as immediate and profound as the first time, and Gwen had her fair share of weight on her mind.

It was not as hard as she had feared, caring for the child. Her own hatred for Mordred had always been filled with more pity than anger. It was still a lot to be in this room and watching the shadow of a future foe.

The picture he painted, next to Morgana, it scared her.

Leaving to go talk to Merlin felt like the right move on multiples accounts. It didn't make it any easier.

“I don't know where to start.” It was her that broke the silence that had settled between them.

The man had let her into his room to allow privacy. Gaius wouldn't be here for a few more hours, and it wouldn't shock much considering the rumours about them.

“Me neither.” He smiled. “We got that much in common already.”

“Pff.” She smiled back. “Listen, I... hadn't quite been honest with you.” She would have to explain her attitude a little, after her scene in the cave. Not addressing it at all was out of the question.

He was waiting for her to continue. She was careful to express herself:

“It's hard for me to explain, Merlin. But your dragon, he talked about prophecy, yet I may have another one of my own.”

“What do you mean?” He was leaning forward.

“One day, it's like magic... touched me somehow. It told me its wishes. It spoke of a near impossible future that fills me with such longing it's hard to put into words. I want to see this vision happen. I'm ready to fight the fates for it.”

“Magic talked to you?” He repeated back.

Gwen must have sounded insane.

“In a way. I don't expect you to believe me! Nor to understand what I mean when I barely understand myself. But I know where I wish to go, and it's not where the layed-out path lead us.”

“Fascinating.” Merlin didn't looked convinced nor disbelieving. Just pensive.

“You know, since I came to Camelot and met Kilgharrah, I had a hard time adjusting to the idea of a prophecy having our life already determined. The idea that I'm the other half of Arthur, who's supposed to be the perfect King or something, it's...”

He paused.

“I went back to see the Dragon. About the boy we rescued and the druids. He doesn't want me to help him yet won't tell me why, just like he won't believe me when I speak highly of lady Morgana.”

Gwen's heart was hurting. Distrust causing evil and evil justifying distrust, where does the cycle starts?

“And he told me yet another thing about me, about my name. He called me Emrys.”

“Emrys...” She felt ill. “The immortal one.”

“Do you know about that?”

“That's just what the name means. I'm sorry, I don't know much more.” And what she did know about Emrys she probably had wrong. This, at least, was becoming obvious.

“Figures.” He continued slowly. “It all feels like too much, way too much for me. I don't know what I should trust or not.”

“I can't say I blame you.” She really didn't. Not once had she envied Merlin's position. His power came at a hefty price.

“Morgana and you have been nothing but kind to me. The kid is but a child. No matter what the prophecy lay out for us all, I feel like I should help. And I'm making the choice to do so.” His determination was a light in the dark.

“Merlin...” She looked at him as sincerely as she could. “Thank you. Because if you trust in Morgana, believe me, she will never let you down. She is an incredible woman.” She just needed a chance. Gwen would will this true above everything.

“I still want to believe that Arthur will bring the peace to the land. And I will help him to do so. But the rest?” He smiled again, softly. “I'm willing to take some risks. Tough luck for that big lizard.”

“As much as I can, I will help you. I swear.” The warmth in her chest was undefeated.

“I know Gwen. It really means a lot to have you as a friend.”

Only time would tell if Merlin would stay true to his words. But the simple act of speaking them into existence meant the world to her.

“As for the boy... we really should get him back to the druids, shouldn't we?”

They should. And Gwen was praying, to the bottom of her soul, that this endeavour would end better than the last.

Chapter Text

“I understand that this is a huge request.”

Gwen was looking straight into Arthur's eyes while speaking.

She was never one to back down from a confrontation. Victory for the bolds, or something like that.

“A huge request?” He looked torn between disbelief and anger. “This doesn't even start to describe what your asking. In fact, let me reformulate that for you: you're asking me to commit direct treason.”

“I'm asking you to help your s-” Careful, careful. “to help lady Morgana.”

“You are asking me to cover for a mage!”

“For a child. My lord...” She reduced the distance separating them. “I'm begging you. Tell them he's dead. Let him return to the druids quietly. What harm can a boy do?”

“What a naive question. Boys grow up.” His tone sounded harsh, but it was clear he was conflicted. “Boys become men, and that's where problems start.”

“He'll become a man that remember your mercy. Didn't the druids suffer enough?”

Arthur flinched. Druids were a particularly sensible topic for him. He was still young, the raid he conducted against their camp mustn’t have been so long ago. The guilt was fresh.

Harming vulnerable people and children never sited right with Arthur Pendragon. There was no universe where hunting down a little boy, as magical as he was, felt right by him.

He paused a moment before asking quietly:

“Why does Morgana care so much anyway?”

Gwen was about to answer, but another voice rose next to her:

“She wants to do the right thing” Merlin had stayed quiet until then. He had been against Gwen's plan from the start, yet he wanted to trust the prince more than anyone else. “Come on Arthur, you can't believe that burning a child is just? You cannot believe a group of harmed men hunting an innocent child is fair.” His eyes were pleading. “You cannot.”

The thing was, Gwen knew why he tried to talk her out of asking Arthur for help. It was simply fear. If in this moment Arthur said no, if he refused to see the evil in killing a kid for no other reason than for who he was then there was no hope. It was over.

If Arthur failed this moral dilemma, then Merlin could not ever hope for a future of magic.

But Gwen didn't share his anguish. She knew that he would not betray them.

Arthur sighed deeply before muttering:

“I'm not a monster, alright. But your bleeding hearts will be the death of you all.”

It was a win. She felt a warmth in her heart despite the lack of surprise.

“Thank you.” She hoped her sincerity bleed through her voice. “Lady Morgana is with him right now, he's still healing. Once you tell Uther that you found him dead and the search stop, she'll go with him to the nearest druid camp and you'll never have to hear about this again.”

For a few years at least.

“What, she'll go alone?” Arthur frowned.

“I'll go with her.” Merlin said confidently. His smile was blinding since the prince agreed to help them.

It was what had been decided. Both him and Morgana needed to talk with the druids, and as much as Gwen wanted to go with them, she felt like it was not her place.

Learning when to let go was surprisingly hard. But she couldn't control other people's life. The sooner she accepted to take a step back when needed, the better. She had to trust them to make the right choices.

“Merlin will go with Morgana?” His tone was incredulous and slightly mocking, as per usual with anything concerning his manservant. “That's supposed to be reassuring?”

“Your Highness, please.” She said with a soft smile. “Trust us. Nothing bad will happen.”

He threw his arms up in a movement of utter defeat.

Gwen looked at him fondly. He really needed these theatrics to do a good act in peace, it was impossible for him to just admit he had a soft heart and trusted Merlin with his family's life.

“My name is Mordred.”

It was the first and the last words they heard the boy speak, right before he disappeared in the forest with Morgana and Merlin.

He had looked at Arthur with admiration and gratitude. Gwen had to shift her head to the side, the unease she felt becoming unbearable.

The prince was standing next to her, his gaze not quitting the spot where they were last seen.

“I hope I'm not making a mistake.”

“You are not.” She said softly.

“Oh please.” He scoffed. “For all your words, I've seen how uncomfortable you are with him. You know how dangerous magic is.”

“It is...” She began pensively “... complicated, for me. To confront things I believed to be true for years to the reality in front of my eyes.”

He said nothing.

“How can someone be evil for the way they were born?”

“Magic is learnt.” He cut sharply.

“Are we sure of that? And even if it was the case... Druids mostly know of healing, of nature. Is this evil, too? I cannot look at a young boy like this one and see a monster.”

“Careful of what you are saying. I could have you hanged for far less.”

It was empty words and thus, she didn't even flinch. The night had been confusing and Arthur's composure was so clearly crumbling that she would not hold any threat against him.

What was it like to be in his shoes? So much power and yet, no possibility of action against his father wishes. Too sheltered to understand much of the people under his command, but exposed to enough violence to lose childish hope and trust in men. And so, so alone.

She completely got what drawn him to her in the first place. Someone to talk to him straight, like a real person, in a world that put him in such a isolating position? That was like water in the desert. Much like she had been drawn to a man respecting and hearing her for who she was, in a world that constantly pushed her down or asked her to tone herself down.

They found in one another a missing piece in their life. It had been a relationship that made them both better. In a strange way- it has never been exactly about romance, and it was why she truly believe they could build something without it.

A moment passed in silence. It wasn't unpleasant, despite the worry for their friends underneath. She felt the want to share a little more of her feelings:

“When I was accused of sorcery...”

“I'm really sorry about this.” He interjected. “Truly. I know Morgana is still mad at father for that, and I understand.”

Her coming so close to the death penalty had certainly made an impact on their family dynamic. Gwen was surprise to see how much it was still affecting them.

“I know it wasn't your decision. But I could not stop thinking about magic and the laws around it while I was in my cell. It did made me wish for a kinder way.”

“I wish you never had to experience something like that Gwen.” He sounded incredibly sincere. “But you need to understand that most magic user want to harm Camelot and its citizens. They are powerful, and dangerous. We have to deploy strength to protect everyone. There are no other ways.”

“Have other ways been tried?”

Arthur sighed again, fatigue showing on his face: “You really do spend a lot of time with Morgana.”

She offered him a sly grin in return, and let the subject rest.

They stayed quite a long time out there. The night wasn't too cold and felt rather peaceful. With the nocturnal critters and a particularly loud owl as their only music, she focused on the stars above them.

Whether she succeed or failed at making her legacy better, they would watch over them all the same. The thought was comforting to her.

At one point, Arthur turned to her: “Should we go back to the castle? There's no way to tell how much more time they need. Better no to attract attention by being gone too long.”

“Yes, you are right.” She stretched her legs a little to shook off the numbness induced by their stillness. “Let's go back.”

Will they were walking back, Gwen heard Arthur whisper “I really hope I don't regret this” one more time.

She would have to make sure he didn't.

She planed to go home at the forge, she swore. But her feet leaded her to Morgana's empty room.

She first sat on the bed, then lay on it. She could have fallen asleep, her lady never would have hold this against her, but somehow she didn't.

She didn't felt tired. So many things were coursing to her head that it made a continuous noise buzzing again and again- impossible for her eyes to close.

It was strange how between all her anxiety for the important, vital future of Camelot, the loudest part of her mind was slowly being taken over by a little idea.

It was a silly one. One that had been but a seed planted a few time ago, one she never allowed herself to consider seriously. She felt anxious to even envision it now.

Picture of lady Morgana, in her sumptuous dresses. Dancing with grace in luxurious balls, speaking with fire for what she believed in, whispering her heart's trouble next to Gwen.

She was luminous in all her memories. Even the ones laced with pain and betrayal from her past life. She was the one person, in all of the world, that Gwen could never truly let go of.

Was she in love with Morgana?

It somehow felt more blasphemous than defending magic. To even consider this...

It wasn't unheard of for young girls to feel a strong bond toward one another. In a world full of arranged marriage well, it was rather tolerated for girls to explore with one another. It was an indulgence for the youth in a way, one that didn't leave any bastards in its wake. One that was to be left in the dust in adulthood at most.

Most men found the idea either silly or arousing, never considering it serious enough to be a concern. It was a non-issue as long as it was not to be anything else than a child foolishness or a man's sexual fantasy.

But for a woman to love, truly love, to want to build something with another woman? The concept in itself was revolutionary.

Gwen let her hands course on the silk of the noble's bed. The idea had grown in the background of her mind without her noticing, it was too late. Pandora's box laid broken at her feet.

She loved men. She did. What she had felt for Arthur, for Lancelot, it had been real. But...

Morgana's long hair dancing in the wind. Morgana's secretive smile as they shared a joke, just the two of them. Morgana's tears as she shared her fear, trusting Gwen with her fragile side, trusting her like she didn't trust anyone else.

Morgana, Morgana, and Morgana always.

It was impossible to let it go. The emotion had taken over Gwen's whole self.

How was it something that she kept confined before? It was in every decision she took. The truth, the honest truth in the matter was, if she could save one single thing in this new life she had been given, it would have been the sorceress's fate without any hesitation.

She would let Camelot burn before she gave up on Morgana again. The realisation was like a punch in the stomach.

So that was it then. It was something Gwen would have to make peace with.

But it wasn't a discovery, it was simply stopping the denial. It wasn't surprising, or out of the blue, or difficult to believe. It would cause her tremendous problem for sure, but Gwen took the feeling with a shocking ease.

She laid in the soft fabric while breathing deeply, quietly accepting the realisation.

The hours passed as she was waiting like this, slipping in and out of consciousness as her recent lack of sleep started to catch up to her.

“Are you awake?” A mutter in the dark.

Gwen stood with a jolt. Raven hair and clear eyes flooding her vision.

Her heart was beating unnaturally fast. She answered as low as she could, trying to keep her relief at bay:

“You're back! Sorry I... I got a little anxious. Figured I could wait for you here.”

“Yes, I wasn't expecting you.” Morgana sat next to her. “Mordred is safe with the druids.”

“That's good.” Gwen smiled. “That's really good to hear. So it went well?”

The lady didn't speak immediately.

It was still dark, but the night was clearly reaching its end. Dawn was lending its first fragile lights. The trip to the forest had lasted a good while, more than she expected. The druid shouldn't have been that far away, especially considering some might have come closer to get Mordred back.

“I considered staying.” Were the words that finally left her mouth.

Gwen felt herself froze.

“I was there, talking to the druids and I felt more at home with strangers than I ever did with Uther. Isn't it funny?” Morgana's voice was carefully bland. “I could have stayed. Learn about magic. Learn who I was without fearing for my life.”

Stunned, Gwen forced herself to speak. The words were more faint than she would have liked:

“And you didn't, in the end.”

“No. I didn't.”

A pause.

“Why didn't you?”

“Few reasons, really.” For the first time since the start, a hint of emotion. “Poor Arthur would have had to deal with the mess of my disappearance, for a start.”

“Giving him trouble never stopped you before.” The banter came to her by reflex, despite her troubled feelings.

“Right, which is why the concerns were from Merlin. Well- not that it stop him either usually. But you know. We talked a lot, the two of us.”

“You did?”

“Hm hm.” Morgana nodded. “It was... an insightful talk.”

What did this mean? Did Merlin tell her about his magic? Did she tell Merlin about hers?

“Sometimes I...” Morgana started again. “I get so fired up, I just act. Without considering all the repercussion. Imaging if the words had been that I'd been kidnapped? The druids would have been in trouble. I never would want that.”

That much was true.

“And Gwen- I never would want to let you behind like that. I know it sound meaningless, considering, but trust me, that's not what I was thinking of at all.”

“...I get that.” She couldn't help the hurt. The idea of Morgana leaving her like this felt violent in contrast with her recent revelation.

“I wasn't really thinking about the real implications of my decision. I'm just so angry, all the time! Against the world, against Uther. And since I discovered my magic I just.. it's getting to much. I don't know what to do with this feeling of unfairness. I feel like I lost control on my own life, or maybe, that I never had it in the first place.”

“Morgana...”

“I feel powerless. And I hate that. More than anything. I would do a thousand stupid things to claw this feeling out of my chest, and I would only look back and see the disaster when it's over and done. Does that make sense to you?”

It was the most honest she had ever seen Morgana. It was eye opening.

Gwen could not really understand this way of living. She just didn't work like that, herself, and yet, wasn't it tragically clear why Morgana acted and did the thing she did?

Was it enough to excuse her actions? It made it easy to imagine her getting swept up in a spiral of vengeance without a way to get off it, at least. Gwen's heart clenched.

“Please, do not be reckless.” Her tone was so low she wondered if she was heard. “Morgana you can't just... abandon us like that. We can build something here, it can get better. Fleeing, it wouldn't solve a thing.”

“I don't think this would have been fleeing. Not really.” A pause. “But I swear Gwen, I won't consider that again. I just needed to tell you. It feels important that you understand.”

Morgana's pale eyes were glistening. Gwen didn't feel much better.

“Thank you” She put her arms around her. “For telling me. And for coming back.”

“Of course.” She returned the hug with strength. “Always.”