Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! The Sorcerer's Apprentice and all its characters belong to Disney!
"Maxim, you look horrible."
Maxim rolled his eyes as he slid into the front passenger seat of Drake's car. They sat there for a moment looking at each other before Maxim scowled at the illusionist he had agreed to take on as his official apprentice. Horvath had nearly killed the young sorcerer by using a parasite spell to drain his magic. The least he felt he could do was teach the boy how to protect himself properly and master what remained of his magic. However, the bond between master and apprentice didn't need to include sticking one's nose into another's personal business. "For heaven's sake! What're you waiting for boy? Start the car already!"
Drake frowned. He didn't like seeing his master so pale. He knew something was wrong, but Maxim was too stubborn and proud to ask for help, so the sorcerer simply did as he was told.
He drove his master back to the Arcana Cabana. Horvath told him to go on home, that they'd practice the next day, but Drake followed him into the store anyway despite the older morganian's dismissal. Veronica was standing at the cash register when they both came in. She offered Drake a friendly smile, then frowned when she saw how ill Maxim was. "Maxim, I think it's time for you and Drake to go back to the penthouse. It has only been a day and that binding spell's already effecting you. We're worried about you-all of us-including Morgana."
Maxim winced as if Veronica had slapped him. She may as well have. All anyone needed to do was mention Morgana's name and Maxim acted like a whipped dog.
Morgana had accused Maxim of knowing about the failsafe Merlin affixed onto the inner most layer of the grimhold in which she'd been trapped. In truth, he'd had no idea, as he hadn't been there whenever the doll was forged. Not that it mattered. Merlin's binding spell had been set to activate the very moment Maxim had released Morgana. Neither of them had realized due to the aura surrounding the nesting doll. It had drowned out that of the old man's binding spell which tethered itself around Morgana's soul and Maxim's body tying him to her for an eternity. They couldn't break or undo the tether because it would result in death for the one who severed it. The spell kept Morgana from using her magic for malicious purposes and left Maxim physically ill whenever he was away from her for a long period of time.
He'd preserved her body, carried it within his own focus for twelve hundred and seventy years and he had even found a way to resurrect her after she'd suffered defeat at Prime Merlinian Dave Stutler's hands. One would think she'd at least be grateful. Instead, the woman had struck him on the cheek before calling him a liar.
Morgana hadn't realized how badly she'd wounded Maxim until Abigail Williams found a post-it on the fridge telling them he'd left the penthouse. The note hadn't said when or even if he'd return. Morgana had gone into hysterics as he was her lover. The strain had taken it's toll on her recently resurrected body. She'd been bedridden for a day. If things didn't change-and soon-she'd die, and no one wanted that-not even Balthazar.
"You have to go back Maxim. Morgana hasn't been back in her own body for more than a few days and she's already sick. She's refusing to eat or drink and she hasn't slept at all in the last twelve hours."
Maxim just kept shaking his head every time Veronica or Balthazar tried to make him see reason. "Why would I go back? Morgana doesn't want me there. You all heard what she said."
"She was angry, Maxim. We all say things we don't mean when we're upset," Veronica soothed.
"They're right you know," Drake interjected.
"Did I ask you to form an opinion?" Maxim snarled.
Drake frowned. "No offense, mate, but you weren't there. You didn't see her face when I read your letter. She adores you, Maxim. Why else would she be all in a tizzy over you leaving?"
"Because she's still livid over her failure to cast The Rising and without me she won't be able to integrate into modern society. She doesn't know the laws and customs of this day and age. I'm merely a tool to her-nothing more."
Drake snapped and slammed his fist down on the checkout counter. "Will you please just shut up and listen?! Morgana is sick, mate, and if you don't come back right bloody now, she's going to die! And all of your little magic tricks won't be enough to bring her back a second time! Do you really want that?"
Normally Maxim would've knocked the hell out of his apprentice for speaking to him in such a disrespectful way. Not this time. Drake's outburst surprised the old morganian-and everybody else in the room it seemed. Maxim's apprentice wasn't prone to losing his cool. He didn't say a word to the lad during the entire ride back to the penthouse.
Abigail was waiting for them by the door. The Salem witch had thrown out her "colonial wear" as Drake called it for a pair of jeans and a shirt with a rampant lion and the words "Hear Me Roar" scrawled out along the front. She gave Maxim a wide berth.
Poor girl probably thinks I'll use the parasite spell on her again.
Abigail and Drake had been drained of their magic once. Using the spell again would kill them. Maxim had saved them by using their focuses, both skull ring and pendant having retained just enough of their spiritual essences to revive them.
Maxim glanced at the vacant sofa, loveseat and recliner in the living room. He saw only empty chairs in the adjacent dining room. "Where is she?"
"Bedroom," Drake answered.
Maxim limped down the hall toward the master bedroom. He'd damaged his leg during the whole fiasco at the park. He could've healed it via his magic except he'd exhausted his power by performing the resurrection utterly draining himself. His magical energies and physical strength needed time to replenish themselves. His leg would have to wait or mend the old fashioned way.
Morgana was curled up on the bed when he poked his head into the room. Maxim felt his nausea fade only to have it replaced by an ache in both his chest and groin.
Like any spell, the binding had a few side effects. Not only did the magic render them physically ill if they were apart for too long, it worked as an aphrodisiac philter anytime they were together.
A part of Maxim wondered if the binding was Merlin's idea of a quip. The old man always did have a demented sense of humor.
"Morgana?"
No response. Maxim pushed the door open. He went over to the bed and gently pulled back the quilt. What he saw unnerved him. Morgana Le Fay, body covered in sweat, barely conscious. His lover was ill, her face paler than usual, her breaths shallow and uneven, her dark eyes clouded.
"Morgana, love, say something."
She parted her lips as if to speak. No words came out. He grabbed her hand. She couldn't have pulled away from Maxim if she'd tried. Her body was too weak.
Surely this couldn't be the work of the binding spell. Merlin wasn't THAT cruel. There had to be something else. Then he saw it-a stain-dark crimson against ivory. He yanked back the sheets.
"Drake! Call Balthazar and tell him to bring Veronica! Now!"
"Why?! What happened?!"
"Morgana, she...she's had a miscarriage!"