A crouched man, covered by a dingy, heavy cloak, picked his way through the southern part of Camelot. He limped, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and leaned heavily on the staff in his right hand. The hour was late, he noticed glancing up, and the sun was already hidden behind the castle walls. Thin shadows lay like sheets over the village, weighing down the already small shops and making them seem even smaller.
Pausing near a street corner, the man sighed deeply, and rubbed a shaking hand over his dirty face. Though the shops were all closed, and the people gone home to their families, the city seemed unbearably loud. He could hear them-laughing, talking, fighting-some even prayed; they prayed for their men at war.
With a shuddering breath and a painful gulp, he swallowed hard. Would they continue their prayers if they knew, he wondered? Rolling his shoulders and adjusting his cloak, he continued down the street until he came to a small, ramshackle house built into the side of the castle wall. There he paused again, turning to look out over Camelot.
The year had begun with such promise, such hope, only to come to an earth shattering halt in a few short hours. He began to shake again, hurrying inside, and slamming the door behind him as though it would close out his thoughts. The staff clattered to the floor, and the cloak was carelessly discarded in a random direction. He could not breathe. He felt hot. With hurried steps, he went over to the basin, not bothering to light a fire or candles. For now, he wanted to be hidden and he welcomed the dark.
Leaning over the bowl, he took a deep breath and submerged his head in the icy water and stayed there, willing himself to forget the events of the last twenty-four hours. He remained, unmoving, holding his breath, his eyes clenched tightly shut, except something had suddenly moved at the table across the room. He cursed himself for letting his guard down.
"Merlin?" A soft voice spoke his name and Merlin straightened, spinning on the intruder in a flurry of water and curses. Water dripped from his face and hair, mingling with the dirt and grime of battle, and his arm stretched out toward the empty hearth while he took several steps toward the voice. Angry flames erupted in the fireplace, licking up the brick of the castle wall and illuminating the shack. His fury, however, melted away at the sight that met him. A young woman with flaming red hair, curls springing wildly in random directions stood cradling a tiny baby, cowering against the wall in horror.
"Merlin?" She whimpered, fearfully. The breath rushed out of Merlin as he realized what he had come so close to doing and he hurriedly crossed the space between them and gathered her up in his arms, being careful not to crush the baby between them.
"Mora! Mora! What are you doing here?" He took her face in his hands and placed tender kisses all over her cheeks and lips, frowning as he felt the tremors coursing through her small frame. Merlin forced his face to relax, tried to smile softly, but swallowed hard and hugged her again when he felt unmanly tears coming to his eyes.
Mora clung to him with one arm, the other arm keeping the baby safely to one side. "There were cries beyond the walls, cries coming from the easter forest..." Her eyes were wide with fright, and her voice shaking. Merlin sighed and gently stroked her hair, softly combing his fingers through her red curls and resting his chin atop her head. Mora had never been afraid of anything before he loved her. Her spirit had been as fiery as her hair. For a long time, Merlin said nothing, he merely held her, hating himself for the life he had so selfishly forced her into.
"You heard the Weepers. The Dark Ones lost their Heir today." He said at length. His voice sounded heavy and dull in his ears as he prepared himself to douse the glimmer of hope that he saw in Mora's eyes as she pulled away to look up at him. He had not yet spoken the words aloud, and now they were getting stuck in his throat.
"Arthur killed Mordrid." He said. Mora moved to speak, but Merlin shook his head quickly and placed his fingers to her lips. "Mordrid managed to land a blow to Arthur before he passed." The tears were coming, he could not stop them. Arthur had been like a son to him, not only that, Arthur had meant freedom for the babe his young love now held. "...The King is dead."
Mora drew back in alarm, "What does that mean for us?" Her voice was small, barely a whisper, and Merlin had to strain to hear her, bending his ear toward her lips to catch the words. He did not respond at first, merely touched a hand to the soft round head of the tiny baby girl in his lover's arms. Mora began to weep.
"I will not be able to conceal her presence any longer," he said softly, staring down at the babe. "Not with Arthur dead. There is no one to distract Morgana and her people from sensing her now." He sighed heavily, and his eyes met Mora's. "We'll have to get her somewhere safe…somewhere they will never be able to find her."
"I can take her back to France, I have a grandmother there, we can stay with her until things calm down!" Her face brightened with hope, but that quickly faded as she saw Merlin's face.
"They will find her, Mora…" His voice was thick with emotion. "I warned you of the dangers of bearing her. I warned you in the beginning…now she is here, we must do what we can to keep her safe and well."
"…No." Mora whimpered, shaking her head slowly in denial. "What would you have me to do? Would you rather I ended her life the moment I knew she was growing within me?" She demanded. "Merlin, she is our daughter! She is part of us!"
Merlin took Mora's face in his hands, "No! Of course not!" He exclaimed, but then he released her and began to pace."I never should have allowed this, any of it. I should have left you to your life, happy and ignorant of all this world…" He raked his hands through his silver hair, facing the fire as he steeled himself for what he would need to say. "I must send her away. Somewhere they will never be able to follow."
Mora panicked. "No! No, you can't! She needs me!" Mora laid the baby down on the bed and ran to stand before Merlin who closed his eyes tightly, fearing he would break and fail to do what he must if he looked at her. "Merlin, please!" Mora gripped his arms, desperately pleading with him to see reason. "We can do this! You are the most powerful wizard in England, maybe even the world! You don't have to do this!"
He had failed. The day had cost too much, too many lives, and now Merlin found himself forced to rip his family apart. Anger boiled in his gut, his failure and selfishness glaring back at him in his lover's tears. He knew this was a possible outcome the day he saw Mora for the first time, he had seen it, and he had been arrogant enough to believe he could change it. He believed Arthur to be the chosen one, that he would bring an era of peace never before seen by wizard and human alike. He believed Mordrid could be redeemed, and he believed Morgana could be stopped. …And he had grown careless in those beliefs. He was the Great Merlin! Leader of the Wizarding World! How could he fail? His pride. His pride would always be his downfall, and now he would be forced to watch the love of his life suffer the worst.
"If you wish her to live, we have no choice." He said. "I will prepare the horses, then we go to the Circle." Without another word, Merlin left Mora sobbing in the middle of the shack and went outside.
By the time they had reached the forest, night had fallen. Bare, knobby branches clicked and creaked together as the wind blew strongly through the trees. A small clearing had been furnished with dead limbs and branches from trees like a fence and herbs hung from the fence in protection of those within its confines. Seven torches decorated the edge of the circle, lighting the inside just enough for the couple to see each other. They hid spoke in hushed tones, hiding their faces in the hoods of their cloaks as though the trees had eyes to spy on them. Mora was nervous and upset, clinging to a bundle in her arms while the Merlin stood tall, his eyes bright and and alert as he watched the surrounding area.
"There must be another way." She said tearfully.
"Mora, if there were any other option, don't you think I would have found it?" He snapped, his silver eyes flashed in the moonlight. Mora sobbed softly, lowering her face to touch her red lips to the pink forehead of the baby wrapped possessively in her arms. "Lay her down, Mora." Merlin said softly, sadness glistening in his grey eyes.
Mora held the baby tighter and took a step away, looking horrified. "Merlin, no!" She cried. "You can't! Please! We'll run away, we'll take her somewhere they would never find us!"
Merlin sighed, his heart constricting with every tear his lover shed. He walked over and took her in his arms, kissing her passionately. "I'm so sorry, Mora."
He rested his forehead against hers, clenching his eyes shut, a single tear escaping as he lowered his head to leave a kiss of his own atop his baby daughter's head. Mora relaxed slightly, a glimmer of hope taking light in her heart until Merlin began to mutter strange words beside her ear. Mora began to sob again, struggling to free herself from his embrace, but Merlin held her tight, keeping her in place. The wind picked up, the trees creaked, and somewhere in the distance a wolf howled a long, mournful cry and seconds later, Mora screamed. Merlin finally released her and the woman stumbled back away from him, her eyes brimming with tears and her arms entirely empty of the precious bundle they held moments before.
"Bring her back!" She cried. "Merlin! Please, bring her back! She's just a baby! She needs me! Please…bring her back!" Tears came in floods and her words were closer to croaks as she fought to plead through her sobs.
Merlin looked at her, his face hollow and broken as he fought between relief and heartbreak. In one hand, his daughter was safe, in the other, he and Mora would never see their child again. Would Mora ever be able to forgive him? The look in her eyes threatened to destroy him. He raised a hand, reaching for her, but Mora shrank away from him. Merlin felt as though ice water had been poured over him, was she afraid of him? His words failed him.
"I'm so sorry, Mora." He managed. Mora's demeanor changed in an instant, her face devastated just a moment before, suddenly fierce and full of hate.
"I trusted you!" She raced to him, rearing back her hand and driving it across his face with all her strength. "I trusted you!" Her small fists beat against Merlin's chest relentlessly, and Merlin, face still stinging, grabbed her wrists and pulled her close against him. He had deserved every blow. "You promised…" Mora sobbed into his chest. "You promised we would be safe…"
"I'm so sorry…"