Disclaimed: I do not own nor ever will own BBC's Merlin.
Morgana was dreaming. She dreamt of the past, and the present, and of the future. It wasn't all that clear, but it made enough sense to discern. First, she dreamed that she was living in a castle with ornate furniture, scenic features, beautiful structures, and legendary figures. While she was dreaming she could feel the velvet and silk dresses sliding against her skin, and the way they floated when she walked through the courtyard. She could also feel the cold and dusty stones under her feet as she flew across corridors during a storm.
Then, her dreamed changed. This time she was wearing peasant's clothes, but they were made of a smoother material than the rough wool she sees on the commoners. She felt like she was comfortable in the different clothes, like nothing had changed. She remembers meeting a man, who was a well-respected noble. He had black hair and a full beard with a mustache, and he wore long colorful robes with beautiful ornate designs on them. Morgana couldn't quite place his accent, but it was rich and full like any nobleman would have. His eyes looked old and worn, but his features suggested he was at least thirty years old.
Morgana's dream changed again, but she was still in the same peasant clothes and the man was still in her dream. She was standing before him while nervously fiddling her fingers. She was begging for something while the noble stood there staring at her. He seemed to stare right through her heart and see past her. It unnerved Morgana to no end, but she looked straight back at him. What happened next was confusing and meant something deeper. The man quicKly rose from his chair and marched to her, and she stopped speaking. She was extremely perplexed by his actions, but continued to talk directly to him.
"... please, I don't have very much money, and my mother isn't getting any better." Morgana pleaded.
"I am very sorry, truly, but I cannot help your mother." The man said.
Morgana knew she had little time left, so she reached out in a pleading gesture, and the man instinctively grabbed her wrist to stop her hand. The exact moment he gripped her wrist she felt a sense of deja vu, but stronger. The moment lasted for about a second then he tentatively let go of her wrist, but it was enough to feel hidden emotions and tension.
"I'm extremely sorry, but I cannot help you." He said.
"Cannot, or will not?" Morgana asked, ignoring the strange moment.
"I'm sorry, I must go." And he left with a swish of his robes.
Three weeks later Morgana's mother died, and Morgana had no one, and so she went into mourning. Then a few years later she disappeared from the city that she lived in for nearly a year then she came back. She was darker, less caring, and she went after the man who refused to help her.
After that her dream changed again. This time, she was wearing a sparkling, black and white dress with long strands of smooth thin pieces of material, and along with it she wore a white feathered headpiece on her left temple. Her skin looked flawless in the dim lighting of the room where she stood, and the amount of cosmetics she was wearing was astonishing, it was more than what she would see on the most pompous ladies, but it made her face appear unblemished and clear. The smoky, dim room threw shadows all around her and accented her features to look more elegant and sharp.
There was a strange table that she was leaning against. It had a smooth wooden lining and six holes; there was one each on the four corners and one hole on the longer sides, and then it had an odd, green texture as the surface. Out of Morgana's peripheral vision she could see that there was a rectangular light hanging from the ceiling. She thought that was bizarre and she had the thought of touching it, but a door behind her swung open and a man stepped in. It was the same man from her previous dream.
This time he was wearing sleek, black pants, a slick jacket of the same color, and a crisp white shirt with small buttons down the middle, and a neat black strip around his neck that looked like a fish connected to another fish. After he strode in the dusty room he began to set up the strange table. After what felt like a minute, Morgana pushed herself up onto the table and inclined her head in the man's direction, almost quizzically.
"I see you decided to come." Morgana said in a monotone voice.
"Yes, I did. I felt that it was time to think over what's happened." The man said after setting up the game on the table.
She scoffed, "it's time to think over what's happened? It's been nearly four hundred years!" Morgana shouted at him, getting closer with every word.
But he only glanced once in her direction, ignoring her, just continuing with his strange table and his silly game as she walked around the table to him.
" I know we want the same thing." Morgana said knowingly. "Or else you wouldn't have come." She just was a hair behind him, one more movement and she would able to touch the back of his neck.
He shivered, "this won't work, Morgana."
"Really?" She whispered behind his ear. "It certainly looks to me that you're quite pleased with this." And with that she closed her eyes and leaned into him.
"I-I..." He trailed before he breathed sharply in, trying to compose himself.
"Yes?" Morgana barely whispered as she turned her head towards his.
And their lips met softly, almost not even touching, and soon it became a roaring fire, twisting and pounding while they both jumped over the wall and went for it. Then he leaned her back against the table and slid his hands over her waist and hips as they locked lips. They were so involved with one another that they didn't notice the door open and a man with blonde hair and broad shoulders peer in and quickly back away from the room. They broke apart for a moment to catch their breath and then started to kiss again, but it grew more intense when Morgana pushed herself on top of the table, and wanting more she roughly bit his lips. Surprised, he stepped back.
"No!" He said with the sound their lips departing. "No, Morgana, we are not doing this again!"
As he said this Morgana slowly opened her eyes and barely parted her lips, and she leaned back and heavily breathed in and then paused, and then she slowly let out the air. "It seems you liked it." She grinned.
"No. You made the first move, and I only played along." He said as he backed further away from her.
"That's not what it looked like to me." She smirked.
In the dim lighting the man smiled the tiniest bit, away from the eyes of Morgana.
Her next dream was dark and gloomy, and she could tell that it was during wartime, but this was different from anything she had experienced before. There were loud noises and echoing booms, and all she could think of was that same man that keeps appearing in her life. She was in a house with only a candle to light her way. She looked down at the floor of the house to watch where she stepped and glanced at her attire. Morgana was wearing an almost see through nightgown with nothing underneath, granted, it was the middle of the night in her private bomb shelter so she had the right. Now she had heard something coming from up the stairs and quietly moved to check it out. As she carefully walked up she put her hand on her slightly bulging belly to calm herself.
Morgana could barely describe the loud boom she heard when the man she keeps seeing opened the hatch and hastily clamored in front of her.
"Morgana! You're supposed to be asleep!" He said, shocked.
"I heard you coming." She replied back. "But beside that, what happened? That one sounded closer!" Morgana asked as he guided her along the railing.
"It's nothing." He said as he hastily took off his dusty brown overcoat and hung it over a chair.
"No, I know you and that look proves that there's something itching at you." She sincerely said as she moved closer to help him remove his clothes.
"Yes." He replied, "there's something that's bothering me." Morgana placed her hands on his shoulders, slightly rubbing them.
She barely whispered in the candle light. "What is it?"
He turned and stared straight into her eyes and she knew. She let her arms drop to her sides.
"They want me back, Morgana." He said, taking her hands and pulling them closer to his chest. "They need every man to win this war, and as along as I'm here I can't help protect you and the baby." He said soberly.
Morgana's eyebrows furrowed. "But you were doing a fine job protecting us here!" She let go of his hands.
"I know, I know. It's just.." He trailed off.
"It's just what?!" She nearly shouted.
"I have to do this, Morgana and you know why." He tried to grab her hands again, but she pulled them away, so he settled in holding her arms.
This story will have one more chapter, sooner or later, I swear.