It was the New Year that Ethne, her nursery maid from the western island of Inis Fail had called Samhain. Soon the membranes between the worlds would thin and the dead might be, if not abroad, then perhaps glimpsed. She felt as though she were dead. Might she not enter the world of the truly living again, if only, for a few moments.
Morgana stood looking into the light of the low sun in her darkened room. Soon it would be dark outside and the worlds would grow darker, colder, until the Yule when days start to lengthen. Now it was the eve of the New Year, Nos Galan Gaeaf , or Nos Calan Gwaf, as her father's . . . No, she now knew the forthright, honest Gorlois, the tender father of her childhood was not her father. She sometimes didn't know if she hated Uther more for taking her cherished memory of Gorlois; or the his complicity in Gorlois's death by his failure to send reinforcements.
She sometimes doubted Uther was even her father. He refused to acknowledge her. He even said to her that Arthur must never know. Why?
Sometimes Morgana felt her will was not her own. That there was another there with her, moving through the world; while she, Morgana, imprisoned in her own mind looked out through the windows of her eyes simply watching all that went on about her. She was powerless to interact, she could only watch. It was like standing in this darkened room looking out into the dying light.
"You must kill the young Pendragon," Morgana felt a cold, slithering whisper hissing in her mind. No, not in her mind. She heard it with her mind. Sometimes she "heard" the malign consciousness speaking to her. Mostly, her own consciousness was forced to simply observe as it interacted with the world in her body. The slithering voice crawled like ants over her brain, "Take the Pendragon's male whelp from him just as he took Gorlois from you. A death for a death. Deprive him of his honorable, brave, and magical son. "
Magical, what irony! She had learned from Morgause the secret of Arthur's conception. Uther, who hated all magical folk, had used magic.
Who was she? Where was Morgana who had been? She sometimes thought she had died when Merlin poisoned her. All that power! Yet, there was so much Merlin did not, nor would not understand until it was too late.
Morgana watched the daylight flicker and fade. She turned to the shadowy shape of a candelabrum and willed a flower of flame to blossom against the darkness.
Later, as she lay nestled within her pillows and coverlet she noticed with a vaporous shadow collecting near her bed curtains. Morgana felt no fear of it. Only a growing fascination in watching it coalesce and a vague sense of warmth and well-being from it.
The form steadied into a beloved image from Morgana's past. Gorlois as she had most loved seeing him, sleek and dark-haired, a handsome man with a riveting gaze, flashing the quick-silver smile that was only for Morgana. It was he. She just knew it was Gorlois, a beloved ghost who had the power to make her feel as though she'd shatter into a shower of razor fine slivers. How she wished he really were her father.
The specter leaned over her and breathed, "My Morgana."
A solid, warm hand brushed away her hot tears startling Morgana. In a low, firm voice Gorlois said, "Begone, you twisted, bitter thing! I am here only for Morgana."
She felt herself in control of her own body again as a nebulous creature having not quite the aspect of man; but more like a monstrous expression of a man hastily drifted across the room, only to hover just outside the locked window.
"I can feel you, firm and solid, like a living man," Morgana stammered, "but you're dead. And I am not your daughter." Her hot, bitter tears began again.
"Yes, I am dead, child." Gorlois sat on the edge of Morgana's bed, gently pushing her hair from her face, and kissing her forehead, like he did when she was a little girl. "What have they done to you my brave, honest, good-hearted girl? I can only see that you still are the Morgana who was, because I am dead and the dead can see truly and with clarity. I have come very far to be here with you. Morgana, I cannot stay long. Just let me say you lived under my protection and with my love for over ten years. None could have cherished you more. You are the daughter of my heart."
"May I still call you father?" Morgana almost squeaked in a small choked voice.
"Always, kerensa. If I had magic, if had the power of the Great Magic, the power to change the fabric of things, I would have it that I lived longer. To have lived longer to have kept you beside me and protected you from all the ill that's happened to you. My child, the power that cast the other from within you and keeps it at bay comes from you. I have no magic, but I respect it. The young magus, Merlin, has no respect for the power within himself. He thinks it merely a vanity to please his own ambition. Do not ever trust him. But you know that all too well now."
Morgana clasped Gorlois's right hand in both of her's and kissed it. "I love you so much - but I have not the power of casting out the other within me. If I did it wouldn't be as I am. That was your doing"
"No, the power is yours, Morgana. I can only use it from you because the dead have certain, abilities. It lies deep inside you, unawakened, you do not, yet, have the ability to control it. You will have the Great Magic, for in your blood are women of power. You will be known as Morgan le Fay.
You will not always be as you are now. Your power will grow and you will regain power over yourself. Not before much damage has been done. Morgana, you will not have the life you should've had. You are linked to Arthur, and have been, life after life, through time. Sometimes he will be your enemy, sometimes your ally. What you should know is that he will always love you. You will sometimes hate him as only those who have deeply loved the object of their enmity can hate. You path is difficult, but you are always loved. Remember that kerensa. Always carry the knowledge that you are loved."
"When will I regain myself again. Father, do your know?"
"No. I will tell you of the past, so that you may know the truth. Do you remember your childhood nurse, Ethne?"
"Of course, I loved her stories. She was with me until," her voice faltered, "You were killed. She left me after I became part of the royal household. I cried and cried for weeks. Ethne had known me all my life. She told me she'd been my wet nurse."
"Indeed she did nurse you." Gorlois cupped Morgan's chin, lifting it took look in her eyes. "She was your mother, child."
Morgana was incredulous. "No, Vivienne was my mother. She and Uther betrayed you and I am the result of your shame -"
"No, Morgana." Gorlois pressed his finger against her lips. "No, kerensa. If Vivienne betrayed me, I betrayed her, as well, with Ethne, who was one of the kitchen maids. She was a darksome little thing with eyes the deep blue of a twilight sky and she spoke with the lilt of the western isle. I was angry that Uther had set his mind on Vivienne. He was the king, so what could I do. But he was also my friend. I used Ethne to assuage my anger and pain. I can tell you this truthfully, Morgana. I didn't force her, she was willing, and I was besotted with her and she used that to improve her position. I never held that against her."
"Are you telling me that I am your daughter by Ethne?" Morgana's voice was a whip crack. "Why then does Uther believe I am his daughter?"
"Vivienne did conceive by Uther, and was delivered of a son. A maimed and twisted abomination the chief mid-wife smoothed minutes after his birth. The creature who waits outside the window of this chamber to once again control you is the spirit of that unfortunate child."
"And I do not have the power yet to stop him."
"His hatred of Uther and resentment of Arthur is powerful in and of itself. He is also helped by a spell of another's devising."
"Is it Morgause?" asked Morgana.
"No," he laughed. "She doesn't even begin to approach that level of power. The source of the magic is ancient and of the earth and fire, very powerful. You spoke to the source once in a dream. Someday you will remember.
My time with you is almost at an end, my love."
Morgana grabbed at Gorlois and was almost frantic that her hand passed right through him. He was had become an apparition. She wet her dry lips, and blurted, "Tell me, how I came to be reared as your legitimate daughter."
Gorlois smiled that dazzling smile that was only for her "Vivienne was flighty thing and refused to accept her child was dead. Ethne herself suggested that you be presented as her child. You had been born a few days after Uther's child. Vivienne was delighted with you. Ethne said it was right that you should be raised as a noblewoman. She said you were special because you had eyes like the sea. She insisted you be called Morgana, "circle in the sea". I could not refuse her. Ethne said her grandmother, who some said was of the Sidhe, had eyes exactly like yours. That you had faerie blood. Ethne had magic herself. In my own Cornish family there were many, almost always, women who had power. My own mother was a remarkable seer. That's partly why my father married her. A seer is a great asset to a lord or king."
"Uther never knew about the maimed boy."
"Oh, he knew," Gorlois's voice grew cold. "He knows you are my daughter. Think, girl. Why does he not acknowledge you? Because he knows you are my daughter. He lets you believe a lie to control you. It's his way. Uther's nature is treacherous. He knew my wishes; that if I were ever killed in his service, you were to be with your family, with your cousin Cador in Cornwall. You were never to have been Uther's ward. He betrayed not only my life but my wish for my child. Mine. You are my daughter, Morgana. Never forget that.
"I must leave you, kerensa. Know that you know much difficulty, but you are loved."
Gorlois faded to nothingness.
"Father!" Morgana screamed.
She watched with morbid fascination as the twisted specter flowed through glass to make its way toward her. She closed her eyes desperately willing herself to sleep before he imprisoned her.