Hello everyone! I decided to write a Christmas Mergana story this year - set after the war. Whilst Guinevere is a beloved character of mine, she is portrayed quite darkly in this fic, but she is just being very protective.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and read my other fic, Fate Unwoven.
Christmas eve in Camelot. The people were unused to the new religion of Christianity, which required them to worship the God's son, but they embraced the festivals with open arms. For they recognised Yuletide, the feasting and celebrations that brought gladness to their hearts in the coldest of months. The people made offerings at small shrines, a light shining in their weary eyes. One could almost feel a divine presence, not from above but sung out from the hearts of the men and women, joy and gladness, gratitude. Gratitude at their deliverance. The first Christmas since the war. Since Morgana Pendragon and magic had been brought to its knees and the fallen knight, Sir Mordred, had been slain. Arthur was wounded, a wound that would never leave him, but he would live, and the people's thankful hearts gave praise to the God who had spared their beloved king. Magic was no where to be seen, there had been no sign of it since Morgana Pendragon had been...restrained. Queen Guinevere's belly was rounded with child, and all the wise women had predicted that it would be a son, a fine boy who would lead Camelot in to further greatness. The great woman glowed, radiant with love and hope. Hope in a better future, hope that her child would grow up without fear of the pestilence that had choked the lands of Camelot for so long. Magic. That poisonous disease that had worked its way in to the souls of men and women and corrupted them for its gain. She had seen her husband brought down at the hands of a sorcerer; forced to watch as life slipped away from him. But he had been saved, by Merlin, thank the lord. Arthur did not begrudge him the time spent gathering supplies after that. And as the Queen prepared for Christmas, she smiled in the knowledge that her former mistress could not hurt her or her family any more. That she – or what was left of her – had been stopped, permanently. That knowledge gladdened her heart as she stroked her bulging stomach, marvelling at the new life growing in her as the sun died.
"Where do you want it, sire-ouch!" Merlin struggled with an armful of mistletoe and holly, letting out girlish shrieks of anguish as the treacherous plants stabbed him repeatedly.
"The holly? Hmm, well, I could have it over there...or over there...in fact, I like it best where it was before...or do I?" Arthur drawled lazily, enjoying the sight of his manservant running around with thorns sticking in to him every time he turned. A slow smile spread over his face, "But hang the mistletoe from the chandeliers. King Svaen is coming to stay, and I wish to uphold a very...interesting Norse tradition."
"Oh? And what would that be sire? You aren't planning on poisoning him sire, because if so it seems a bit ridiculous to hang the antidote right over his head."
"You shouldn't make jokes, Merlin, it really doesn't suit you. Whenever you deliver the punch line your ears waggle. It gives me nightmares, I'll tell you. And anyway, this is no nonsense from the Old ways. It is a Norse Christmas tradition – to kiss the women you love under the mistletoe, it guarantees fertility, and healthy happy children."
"Not that you and your wife seem to have a problem with that..." Merlin was greeted by a jug of wine being flung over him. He gasped, his eyes burning with the ginger the cook had put in.
"Clean that up, Merlin." Merlin sighed, obeying with a glare to the "Royal Prat." Merlin still had faith in Arthur, despite his renewed ban on magic. He knew that Arthur was a good man, just...conflicted. A nasty little voice in his head said, Morgana was conflicted too. Didn't stop you from poisoning her. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts back. Ever since Morgana had been brought there, writhing and snarling, painful memories had also been brought to the surface.
It was a month after the war. Reported sightings of Morgana had been followed through, and they had found her, dying in her hovel. Her once beautiful face was clouded with pain and anger, and a stab wound in her stomach had become infected. Morgana had been brought to Camelot and treated immediately, a luxury that Guinevere had argued she did not deserve. Merlin had refused to see her. When he thought of the misery she was in, the anguish and torment, it softened his heart. It made him feel guilty and – base. She had chosen her path, but he had pushed her down there, alienated her with his lack of trust and handed her over to Morgause. And now look at her. When she was brought to court, swathed in chains, she had not been able to stand, two guards had had to support her. She had fainted twice, each time insisting she was fine and standing to her feet, albeit unsteadily. Arthur had not been well enough to provide judgement, so Guinevere had taken court, the rage in her heart mirroring the words uttered from her lips. She had stood there, quietly, her anger internalised.
"Your actions have brought misery and ruin on Camelot, and on my husband, your brother and our King. Have you nothing left to say?"
"I did what was right. Your husband has persecuted my kind, killed everyone whom I hold dear. You stand there and talk to me of the misery I have wreaked, when your husband has sat by and listened to the description of my torture, of entire magical communities being desecrated and not lifted a finger." Morgana screamed in her rage, screams that echoed down the hall and caused her to cough up blood with their intensity. At the sight of Morgana in such a pitiful state, Guinevere turned her face away, knowing that she must do what she had to do as Queen.
"Morgana Pendragon, it is with the greatest regret that I pronounce you as an enemy of the crown." Morgana closed her eyes and nodded, too tired to go on for any longer.
"Ah Gwen, you cannot understand that I seek death more than anything now; that I long for the end." She covered her face as dry sobs racked her body. "I have twenty seven years and already my time has come." Guinevere's expression hardened.
"You did not let me finish, Witch. I have no intention of offering you such an easy way out. I have discussed the matter with my husband, and we have agreed that as punishment for your crimes you shall be sentenced to live out the remainder of your life in the dungeon where the great sorcerers were once kept." Morgana's face paled as she moaned.
"No please, you cannot send me back in to the darkness, anything but that! Kill me, torture me, do as you will but in my dying moments let me be connected with the earth, with the nature, with the old religion. Do not shut me up and leave me without the light of day." Her eyes connected with Merlin's, and for a moment the two shared a bond so powerful that Merlin's heart stopped still. His face creased in pain at the young woman's suffering, he wanted to reach out and hold her, to tell her that he would never let them harm her. But she was too proud, too strong. As they lead her out, the look of wonder in Morgana' eyes at the connection she had felt with Merlin hardened in to pure loathing as she muttered at him,
"Once again, it would seem that I am nothing to you. That you would turn your back on me and leave me to rot for the sake of your precious King. Goodbye, Emrys." Tears coursed down Merlin's cheeks as he tried to call out her name. He turned to Gwen.
"Gwen, you cannot do this. Not even she...she has been wounded enough without being condemned to the half life that you have sentenced her to." Gwen finally broke down, weeping bitter tears as she dropped to the floor, cradling her still flat belly.
"It gives me no pleasure to do this, Merlin. But when Arthur was on his deathbed, I suddenly saw what life would be like without him. Empty, colourless. A child growing up without knowing his father, a kingdom without a ruler. And I knew in that moment that should I live through this, I would make sure that I never felt like that again. That those who wronged my husband and me should suffer. I cannot be merciful, but I am still human, and it hurts, Merlin."
"Idiot! Stop daydreaming and get on with it!" Merlin yelped, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at Arthur. Startled out of his reverie, he scrubbed the floor harder, as if trying to erase the memory from his mind.
That night, there was feasting and merriment. The castle turrets were dusted with the falling snow, pale and fragile as it floated gently to the ground. Inside the fires were lit and roaring, dancing in delight. Geese, great plump birds were golden in the firelight, and the King decreed for his men to take meals out to the poor and hungry in the street, so that no one should go hungry on this night. And throughout the feast, Merlin could see a prayer of thanks forever on his lips. But Merlin was tormented, filled with unease and indecision. Finally, his instincts won out, and loading a plate with the goods from the feast, made his way down to the dungeons. As he stepped down the winding, narrow staircase he was confronted with memories of going to visit Kilgarrah. When the hunted, haunted look that now pierced Morgana's eyes was near unseen, and the two would smile each other as they passed. Trying not to draw parallels, his eyes glowed golden and the dungeon door came open. Only someone on the outside could hope to do that. If Morgana attempted it, she would be met by excruciating and unimaginable pain. Uther's designer had done his job well. He walked in to the dungeon, wrinkling his nose at the dank smell.
"Morgana?" he called out, tentatively. The stone walls echoed the sound, mocking him. Hunched in the corner, her body swollen with bruises was the once fearsome Lady Morgana. The chains that bound her, drowned her in their volume were designed to restrain her magic. Not that she could have used it without them. Now a mere shell of herself, her hair hanging down over her sun starved face, she brought her gaze up to Merlin's.
"Good evening, Emrys." Merlin winced.
"Please, Morgana. Merlin. Surely we have known each other too long for you to start calling me Emrys now?" Morgana moaned in agony as she shifted to get a better look at him.
"What are you doing down here? Surely you would rather be at the feasting with the others than in this place." She gave out a hacking cough, blood staining her fingertips as she brought them up to her mouth. Merlin started towards her and she recoiled like an injured animal. Merlin stopped, afraid of startling her. He said, slowly.
"Why did you not give me away? In revenge – I was the one who gave you that injury. I am the reason you are here." Morgana gave a tired half smile.
"As if Arthur would believe me? And anyway, before that I trapped you in a cave, and poisoned you, and before that you threw me back against a rock wall and left me to die. To be honest, sweetheart, we've both left scars on each other. You've done your worst to me, and I've done my worst to you, and it's left us here. Me trapped beyond the light of day, and you forced to live out a charade of a life, waiting for a destiny that might never come. Sacrificing those who are dear to you for it. Me included." Her head lolled to one side, tears streaming down her cheeks, her whole body shaking with sobs. "I am so...tired, Merlin. When I was first imprisoned like this, I was angry. So angry that it consumed my body and gave me a renewed cause to fight. This time I cannot bring myself to be angry, to feel anything in case even that is taken from me." Merlin rushed to her side, caution thrown to the wind and brought him close to her, his tears meeting hers. He stroked her hair, matted and tangled through her continued confinement. Merlin pushed the food towards her.
"I brought you some food, something to eat." Morgana felt a sudden surge of anger through her veins. How dare he pity her, how dare he come down here and bring her food whilst he watched her imprisonment and ruin. She threw the plate at the wall, hoping to see it smash on the other side of the prison. Morgana was so feeble that it barely left her hand before it fell at her feet. She looked in to the azure blue of Merlin's eyes and saw the kindness, the comfort there. She picked up a goose leg and nibbled at it, until hunger overcame her and she practically ripped it apart with her teeth. Merlin said nothing, only watched as the much-needed nourishment went down her throat and she sighed in satisfaction. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes.
"Why are you here, Merlin? To give me food, to make me think over the past? To get some form of repentance from me?" Merlin thought for a while. Truth be told, he had not thought why when he had come down.
"No one deserves to be alone over Christmas," he eventually got out. Suddenly an idea struck him.
"I could take you up. The guards are all at the feast, they wouldn't notice. I could show you the snow." Morgana raised a delicate eyebrow.
"And if I try to run off? If I try to kill you?" Merlin smiled.
"Morgana, I would be surprised if you could stand." Attempting to prove him wrong, she got to her feet, only to feel the world shift and move around her. She would have fallen over again had Merlin not seen her discomfort and caught her in his arms. Human warmth. She could not remember the last time she had felt it, the last time someone had embraced her. She was unlovable, Morgana had known that ever since she discovered magic. When all those who loved her died, it only confirmed her theory. But here, as she felt the warmth of Merlin's beating heart against hers, she felt a tiny flicker of something she was sure was long dead in her. He unlocked the chains with a small whisper and scooped her up, carrying Morgana up the stairs. Merlin had almost no strength, as Arthur delighted in pointing out, but Morgana was malnourished and thus feather-light in his arms. Merlin had been right, all were feasting within Camelot, and he was not stopped as he brought her up. He took her to the edge of the castle moat, frozen in the cold, beautiful as the moonlight danced off it.
Morgana was startled by the intensity of it all. The cold wind on her face, that cut in to her fragile skin like a knife. She whimpered and clung to Merlin, no longer caring about looking weak, or afraid. But she felt a small snowflake grace her tangled locks, much like the pearls she had worn in her hair when a princess in Camelot. Morgana gazed up in wonder at the falling snow, each snowflake a star in the sky. As Merlin set her down on the snow, he knelt beside her, anticipating her reaction. Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she saw it, knew that it could not last, that Christmas spirit would soon fade and she would be condemned once more to a life in the dungeons. But as she sat there now, it was majestic in its beauty, and she was content to watch the snow settle on the forest and cover her in its thick white blanket. She wanted to be buried by the snow, feel it engulf her, turn her wearied body in to ice. She could, if she wanted to. But no, there was the boy beside her, tenderly stroking her cheek as he watched her take it all in.
"It's beautiful, Merlin. I had forgotten..." she trailed off as his gaze locked with hers, and the two experienced a connection so strong it nearly knocked the two off their feet. Slowly, hesitantly, their lips brushed, and he pulled her close to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The two broke away, confused, Morgana's heart beating faster than she ever thought it could. But she forgot all thoughts of dignity and trepidation as their lips met again, and their kiss deepened, until Merlin pulled Morgana next to him in the snow. He smiled at her, a smile riddled with hope and wonder.
"Merry Christmas, Morgana," he trailed kisses down her neck, softly, as if afraid she might break in his arms. She let out a soft moan and whispered to him,
"Merry Christmas, Merlin."
Merry Christmas Merlin fans! xxx