Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin characters, those belongs to BBC. The song 'Tears in Heaven' is Eric Clapton'.
N/A: I didn't write the story out of the song. It came up when I was looking for a title for this story, and some of the lyrics just fit perfectly with it. The story talks about Loss and Absence, but also about Hope and Love. The action takes place at the end of Season II. I rated it T, but there's some explicit Adult content at the end. If you think it must be rated M, please PM me, and I'll change it.
I
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven
She let the dagger fell on the floor, and looked at her hands. She was surprised not to see them shake. She didn't feel sad or relieved. She didn't feel anything. Her heart didn't bleed nor was it delighted. Her heart was just beating, maybe pounding a little harder, maybe not. She took a step back, and looked at her victim. The dark red blood was already drying. It had been easier than she expected. She had just waited, and, at the exactly right moment, stabbed. She had killed a tyrant, and the castle was still standing. She had killed her family and the world hadn't come to an end.
Now she was free. She could go where she wanted. She didn't have to lie anymore, or to fear anything. She was free to unleash her powers; she was free to speak her mind. She had killed and she was free. She looked at her hands. She was shaking. The pain was unbearable. Her hear was pounding so hard in her chest her ribs hurt. Nausea burned the back of her throat. She backed from the body until she leaned on the wall behind her. The whole world was collapsing around her.
She had killed her persecutor, and she was free. She had no nowhere to go, no one to turn to, no friend, no home. Morgause was dead. She started crying.
*
« Merlin! »
The young man woke up at once. Arthur was already busying himself around their camp. Dawn was just clearing the sky. Merlin Stood and starched, jumping a little for warm. The camp-fire was long-dead.
« Merlin, are you going to mount or do you want to walk through the day? Aren't you the one supposed to saddle the horses, and get everything ready?
- Yes Sire. I mean no. I mean…
- Oh, shut up. »
The young Prince looked tired. He probably hadn't slept. He barely did, these days. He didn't sleep well since Morgana disappearance. Uther thought she was dead. Arthur refused to believe that. Merlin never told him about the poison. He guessed that Morgause probably saved his friend life. But where was she now? Had she turned Evil? Was she a prisoner? Was she studying Dark Magic with her diabolical sibling, practising to doom Camelot? Did she think about them sometimes, the friends, the family she had been forced to left behind?
« Merlin! »
Arthur barked at him again. Arthur refused to believe Morgana was dead, or had turned Evil, and there they were, pacing the old forest, because the Prince had been called by Mordred.
As he followed his master along uncertain patch, Merlin remembered another dawn, the previous week.
*
Each sob was ripping his heart, little ice prickles bitting into his soul. He knew she was the one crying. All his life, he had known when she was overwhelmed by emotions, sadness or joy. Young, he liked it, to be able to comfort her when she needed it, and to laugh with her before anyone else. Later, when adulthood and duty took them apart, that bond shamed him. She had secrets she didn't want to share, and he let her pushed him away, welcomed it. He chose to ignore her anguish for she was not happy anymore. Slowly, the empathy faded, but it never disappeared completely. So he disguised his uneasiness under boredom and arrogance. Sometimes, he couldn't help it, and dropped the mask; but she didn't trust him, so he gave up on them, and played the annoyed Crowned Prince.
She was crying, and he could not help. It was killing him. He fought in his dream, fought his way back to her. But invisible chains were restraining him. The more he fought, the more he felt trapped, until it was hard for breathing. The he talked to him, the boy they save together. Mordred. When he woke up in damp sheets, he rushed Merlin into preparing their trip. He lied and told his father he wanted distraction, and he was going to hunt. And Arthur dragged Merlin with him in his search for the Druids.
II
She left the castle. She left everything behind, except the dress she had on the day Morgause took her from Camelot. She left all jewellery, except her necklace, a small topaz Arthur had bought her for her birthday, so long ago. She left the illegible scrawls, and crystals, silver instruments, and candles. She left the bracelet that doomed her. She took a cloak, and some food. Then she headed West.
Camelot was west. But she couldn't return to Camelot. Maybe Uther was still blind to her powers. But Arthur had understood a lot. She trusted him even if he thought otherwise. He would say nothing. But she didn't want to conceal her true self anymore. She was an enchantress. She had magic she could use to cure and help. She would not return to Camelot. She headed west nonetheless.
*
Arthur got down his horse, stiffly. All his body arched after four days on back-horse and sleeping on the forest ground. He cast a glance toward his companion. Merlin was trying not grimace. His friend had not complained, not once. His friend; last year, he wanted to hit him all the time. Now, he valued the easy friendship.
« Merlin.
- Yes Sire?
- I'm glad you're here. »
His companion looked, abashed. He sat near Arthur, waiting for him to talk.
« I miss her. »
Merlin nodded, and risked an answer.
« Yeah, me too.
- You were good friends.
- She was easy to talk to.
- Easy to talk to? Morgana? You must be kidding. »
Merlin smiled a little. Morgana was the only one with whom Arthur seemed speechless with; except for his father, of course. Sure, at the beginning, he, Merlin, had been a bit impress by her spirit and her incomparable beauty. But their magic had brought them closer. They were able to talk to each other freely. He had poisoned her. He missed her deeply.
« I'll find her. I'll find her whatever it takes, and I'll bring her back.
- What if she doesn't want to come back? » What if she's dead?
Arthur looked away from the fire, her blue eyes silvering.
« Why wouldn't she? »
He guessed why. As Merlin didn't answer, he looked back into the warming flames.
« Then I'll install her in her lands, or where ever she wants to. As long as I know she's safe, it will be enough. » It shall be.
He threw another log into the fire, and sparks erupted. He looked sad.
« You love her.
- What? Go fetch some wood, instead of lying around doing nothing useful. And prepare diner. I'm hungry. »
*
She found an old shepherd hut in a clearing, and installed herself for the night. The long walk had washed away the shock and settled down her nerves. She used magic to start a small fire. It was so good to feel the power flew through her mind and her body, to manage something so simple. Morgause had insisted in teaching complicated spells. She liked the simple things better; to start a fire, or to cure a wound, to ask a flower to bloom. Soon, her little shelter became a bubble of warm and she fell asleep, peaceful.
She dreamed of Arthur. He was wearing his father crown. He was old and looked ill. Her heart arched to see him so sad and tired. He was standing near a lake. There was always water when she dreamed of him. She screamed when she saw him take a step forward, then another. His heavy armour was pulling him under. She saw herself, smiling at him. She was watching him drowning with such a happy look on her face… Then he took her hand, and there he was, a young and handsome Arthur. She woke up.
*
The scream iced his blood. He woke up. Merlin was already reaching for him. « What? »
Arthur rubbed his face. « Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep, I'm fine. »
The sharp tone discouraged Merlin to try to comfort him. Arthur was back to his 'I-am-the-bravest-knight-nothing-can-hurt-me' mode again, and he had learnt that insist meant only trouble. He lied back down and after a while, drifted into sleep again.
Arthur tried to calm the furious beating of his heart. He leaned with his back on his saddle, looking up into the sky. The night was bright and he easily spotted his favourite star. It was the most brilliant. The priest had told him long ago it was called the Shepherd Star. This star the Magi had followed to Bethlehem and to the new-born King of the Kings. He fondly remembered how Morgana teased him about the star. They both knew it would appear only weeks before his birthday. So she used to pretend he liked it just because of the soon-to-come birthday presents. Truth was he liked it because on the glass of the Chapel, the Virgin under the star looked like his mother. He never told anyone.
'Come to me.'
He turned around sharply. The woods around their clearing were calm.
'Come to me.'
The voice repeated in his head. He stood up silently not to wake Merlin up, and took some steps out of their camp.
'Don't be afraid.'
« I'm not afraid. »
He clutched his sword nonetheless.
'Come.'
« Where are you? Where is Morgana? »
Mordred words were serene when Arthur was not. He wanted answers.
'You must find her quickly.'
Arthur resumed his walking into the dark forest, thankful to the full moon.
« Where is she? »
'Follow the ancient path, and you'll find her. You must hurry.'
« Why did you call me? »
'Only you can help.'
« What do you mean? What's the matter? Answer me! »
'You must restore balance to the World.'
« Mordred, damned it! Answer my questions! »
'Good luck, Prince Arthur.'
The voice silenced. Furious, Arthur slashed some branches. Those magical guys were incapable of giving clear answers to simple questions. He hit a small trunk. Ancient Path, Restore balance, that was occus-poccus non-sense. He walked back to the camp, fuming.
III
Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven
I'll find my way, through night and day
Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven
She slept poorly. The same nightmare haunted her; she had to watch him drown over and over again. Morning had flown by when she woke up, feverish. She forced herself to eat some bread and fruits, but her stomach revolted. Fright and exhaustion had mixed up into a vicious headache. So she decided to stay in her refuge for at least one more day.
By the end of the afternoon, she was so ill she couldn't keep her eyes open. She curled up near her magical fire, and used her cloak as a pillow, unable to bare her head straight.
Dreams came again, memories mostly. She dreamed about Gwen father. It was her fault he'd been killed that horrible way. She had given him the key of his cell. Arthur had convinced his father to release her, but he had turned his back to her while the guard unchained her. She dreamed of her flee to the druids, when she understood she had magic. Merlin had been her closest friend since that day. Merlin had tried to kill her; she was the vessel of Morgause revenge. He had been right to poison her; he had to protect Arthur and Camelot.
The pain was unbearable. She wanted to scream, but her throat was so tight from nausea she couldn't even moan. Vertigo pierced her mind when she tried to straighten up to drink some water. She passed out again. She dreamed of Mordred, and how Arthur had ignored his father orders to save a little boy. He was a good man, behind his mark of indifference. He will be a far better king that his father. He probably hated her by now. She was a dreadful witch.
*
Merlin sighed. They were running in circles for hours now. Arthur was once again studying an old stone-mark, in the middle of nowhere. They had already crossed it three times this very day. His Prince had given obscure references to an 'ancient path'. So they had gone back to the main road, and reached a similar bench-mark, then another, then another, up to this one. And now they could not find the next marker.
« Maybe we should go back to Camelot, and ask the Archivist? Or Gaius?
- No, Merlin.
- But…
- We don't have time! »
Arthur was losing his (naturally short) patience. He slapped the rock in frustration. Merlin kept his mouth shut. He wished he could do something, but he had never studied the old mapping of the kingdoms. He looked around him, in an attempt to guess which direction they should go. A direction they didn't try yet, that is. Arthur was ripping the lichen from the stone with his knife. A mossy patch flied by Merlin cheek.
« He said to follow the ancient path to find her.
- He could have been more specific.
- He's a druid, Merlin. He does not care about being specific. His entire like is devoted to dark allusions.
- You mean obscure allusions.
- Whatever. »
Another missile hit his shoulder; a wet one. Rain started falling.
« Great. Lost and wet. This is just my lucky day.
- Shut up, Merlin. »
Arthur voice wasn't angry, but excited. He was furiously brushing the hard surface to discard any remaining vegetation.
« Look! » He pointed to a vague pictogram in triumph. « We're going east. »
Merlin sighed again, hurrying his mount to follow.
*
Morgana dreamed of heavy rain. Her back ached from cramps and from lying on the uneven ground. She was damped with cold sweat. She was burning with fever one minute, and freezing to death the other. Trapped in her delirium, she had lost any track of time. Was it morning? Had the night fall again? She was thirsty, but she didn't try to drink. Water had the taste of swamp. She drifted off again.
*
They found the lake as dusk was coming. The small copse gave them a reasonable shelter for the night. Merlin, to his own surprised, ordered Arthur who was obviously exhausted, to stay put while he busied himself with their camp and supper. By the time he had finished unsaddling their horses, Arthur was already sleeping.
Their searching party had turned into a rescue mission, somehow. The more time flew by, the more the Prince was getting anxious and frantic. Merlin didn't doubt anymore that Morgana was alive. He just wondered why it was so important for the Druids that Arthur and she be reunited. Plus, he, Merlin, had tried to kill her. Morgause had probably saved her life from his poisoning. Was Morgana still with her? How would the witch react to them? Would Morgana forgive him? He sat on the shore, thinking.
Silence woke Arthur up. Merlin was never silent. And forest rarely was. He was alone.
« Merlin? »
He got no answer.
'You must hurry, Prince Arthur. She does not have much time… Hurry.'
The echo of Mordred voice bounced in his head.
« Mordred! Tell me where she is!! Damned it! Merlin !!! »
He took a quick tour of their camp. Stew was simmering. But Merlin was nowhere to be seen. He drew his sword.
IV
Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knee
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please
Begging please
She was so cold. She couldn't feel her hands. The fire was still burning. It had been cast by magic. But its warm barely reached her. She'd never been so cold. Shivers were stings of ice on her tender skin. Her teeth were chattering. Nausea took over once more when she pulled her cloak from under her head to cover herself. The thin velvet was moist. She pushed it away. She cried, clutching her arms around her. She was alone, an outcast. She was a witch, lost to her friends. She was dying.
*
« Merlin!... Merlin!... » Where was the stupid boy?
« Merlin!
- Over here. »
Arthur ran toward the lake. Merlin was seated on the bank, staring in the empty waters.
« It's here, can you see it? »
The Prince calmly put away his sword, before landed an heavy hand on the boy shoulder. Merlin seamed to wake up from a trance. He got up with a broad smile:
« Hi. This lake… »
His feet left the ground, as Arthur fisted his shirt.
« Do you care about anything?! Are you totally unconscious?
- Arthur, there's something into the…
- I don't care! I don't want to look for you at nightfall!
- But the…
- Let's go back to the camp. We must find Morgana.
- But…
- Now, Merlin. »
The young warlock didn't argue any further. The anguish in Arthur voice was worrying.
« Did Mordred talk to you again? Sire? »
Arthur's shoulders fell down a little. He looked terribly young suddenly, and helpless. Merlin handed him a bowl.
« What did he say?
- Not much. That I have to hurry, because she does not have much time.
- Did he say where she is?
- No. »
Merlin helped himself with the stew.
« She can't be far now. »
Arthur didn't answer, eating absently, his eyes fixed on the fire. Merlin tried again.
« I'm sure we'll find her very soon.
- Maybe soon will be too late.
- Don't say that. We'll find her, and she'll be okay. »
*
He could not sleep. Images of Morgana were colliding in his head. He saw her panicked by a nightmare, running to him. He saw her coming out of the woods after she escaped her kidnapers. He saw her furious at him, and sad, and frightened. He saw her desperate, and ashamed and deceived. He saw her chained in a dirty cell. He saw her lying in her bed, nearly dead. He would do anything to see her safe. He would give everything to have her back.
« Please… Help. »
He was not the prying type. His own words surprised him. He threw some dry bush into the fire. The sparks seemed to mirror on a while veil just behind the first line of trees. Arthur stood up to have a better look at the apparition. It was not a horse, but it looked like it, a gracious white horse with a silver mane. The unicorn he hunted and revived. The magical animal gently whinnied.
The foul clouds veiled the moon but he had no problems to follow the creature through the woods. It guided him deeper into the forest. Arthur hurried after the unicorn; suddenly he was afraid to be too late. He entered a clearing. The animal whirled again, tapping the leafy ground with its hoof. Arthur ran to the hut:
« Oh, God, Morgana… »
She was as pale as a ghost, rolled in a ball in front of a extinct fire. She didn't react to his voice. He knelt beside her, touching her fore-head. Her skin was icy, and damped with fever at the same time. Arthur bent over her heart. She was feebly breathing. When he scooped her up, her head rolled back. He ran as fast as he could, calling Merlin out of his lungs.
V
« I don't care what you do. Save her.
- I don't know how!
- If you don't she's going to die. »
Arthur stared firmly to his friend. Merlin was gently bathing her neck and her fore-head, but it was useless. They had taken her out of her wet dress, and wrapped her into coverts. He repeated, more calmly: « Just do it. »
Merlin put one hand on her stomach, and one on her head. Arthur winced at the intimacy of the gesture, but said nothing. Merlin voice was clear and tranquil:
« There are some plants in the leather bag. Please put them in the boiling water. »
Arthur obeyed with arguing. Merlin focused on Morgana. The young Prince didn't see his eyes turned gold when Power invaded him. He heard a soft song, but didn't recognize the words.
'This poison I fed I take back. The evil I made I retract.'
He wanted it to work. He wanted it so much. As soon as Arthur had gently laid her down, he had understood that she was dying because of his poisoning her blood. He guessed Morgause was dead. And with the sorceress gone, the spell that held the poison back had broken. She should already have died. Time or her own magic had slowed its deadly action. If she woke up, when she woke up, he will have the consequences of his choices. All the consequences. For now, he just wanted to save her. He held Morgana hand a moment. She wasn't reacting. He'd been to slow. He had failed. She exhaled, and stood still.
« No! »
Arthur roared and pushed him away from her. Morgana arched and screamed, breathing sharply. Her eyes brutally opened.
Merlin sat down, clutching his arms around him. She watched his every move. Relief washed over him. Damned the consequences; she was alive. Her incredible green eyes traveled to Arthur. He had knelt by her side; he was shaking. Without a word, she took him to her, her arms surrounding his neck. She felt tears escaping him. He crushed her against him, tightening his grip when he sensed she wanted to pull away from him. She held him, hours or minutes, until he regained his composure, and let her go.
They silently drank the tea. Morgana nodded her thanks when Merlin handed her some food. She wasn't hungry, but the stew smelt good and she managed to keep it. None wanted to speak or explain, for it might break the peace. Arthur gave her a package Gwen had prepared and escorted her to the lake. He gallantly turned his back while she bathed whatever it cost him to let her out of his sight. She leaned on him on the way back, refreshed, and when she fell asleep, no dreams came plagued her.
*
Arthur woke up first the following morning. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at the fragile woman sleeping only a few feet away. Emotions rose again, and his heart blew up in his chest. He swallowed, hard, clenching his jaw, pushing back the tears. The dark shadow of illness on her face angered him. She was so pale, and still the more beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her profile was exquisite, perfect. He regretted she had braided her splendid long hair. When she stirred and opened her eyes, he didn't turned away, and kept staring at her. Her vivid eyes were more luminous than ever. But he read despair and fear in her stare.
Unwilling to speak just yet, he offered his hand. She accepted it and stood, then took his arm; they walked silently to the lake. The pale winter sun was beginning to chase the night with its first brush of light. Arthur adjusted his own cloak on her shoulders, as a father for his child. He'd never been so kind to her. Morgana let him hold her, unable to break his heart again. She will have to, very soon. He probably had every intention to take her back to Camelot.
'Morgana…'
The voice in her head was beautiful.
'Morgana…'
She left his side and walked to the lake. She'd never heard a softer sound. The whisper was so melodious, nearly angelic. She took another step forward.
« Morgana, please… »
The prayer in his voice brought her back to him. She found pain in the deep blue eyes fixed on her, and hope. Unable to bare his loneliness any longer, she pressed her mouth to his. He answered to her kiss with passion and anguish, bringing her so close to him her heart found the rhythm of his own. She needed to feel human again. She needed to touch him. Thirsty, she untied her fingers from his, undoing his shirt. He fisted her hair, bringing her head backward so he could drink from her exposed throat. She closed her eyes as her palms brushed his hot skin. His heart was strongly beating under her touch. His fingers journeyed down the curve of her breasts to rest on her waist while he gently laid her down on the grassy bank.
Morgana welcomed his weight on her. When he deepened the kiss, she ached against him. Arthur stopped his caresses an instant to lose himself in her mystic eyes. He felt energy growing inside her, power running through her blood, and he knew she trusted him with her deepest secrets. So he accepted what she was offering, her innocence and her heart.
He was an attentive lover, and he gave as much as he took. When her breath calmed down, she nestled comfortably her head on his chest, and finally smiled.
VI
Arthur buried his face in her hair, so he could escape reality a bit longer. Curled in his embrace, she gently urged him up a little, so she could kiss him. Her eyes were glittering with joy. He loved the grey mist their love-making had raised in the aquamarine pool of her stare. She was smiling now, and he felt invincible. Her skin was glowing under his touch. She kissed him again, and her power was his. She didn't want to talk, but she had to ask… He silenced her with another kiss.
A soft moan escaped her when he brushed his lips over a sensitive spot behind her ear. But he just rested his fore-head against hers, kissing her softly one last time before pulling away to readjust his clothes. She stood up, blushing when he picked up the cloak and brushed the dead leaves on it.
« Arthur… »
His name was the first word she spoke in days. It was a whisper, light as air, fresh as water. He turned to her, and the vision stunned him.
The path toward the lake was shinning. Of the lake itself only remained two parallel rivers, running from them in impossible flows. A crystal road had appeared in the middle and formed a platform several yards away. At the exact center of the clearing was an enormous granite stone. Some kind of cross was heading from the stone. Arthur took a step forward, despite the blazing light of the sunbeam reflecting on the golden cross.
'Only Excalibur can restore balance to the world, use by the unforgettable King.'
The cross was the guard of Excalibur, trapped into the rock. Morgana watched Arthur walked down the crystal road to the stone altar. She gasped as he fell on his knees, but he was taking the guard with both hands, and effortlessly pulled the sword out of its granite stealth. She saw strikes of gold and silver erupted around him as he gripped the sword. A blinding halo crowned his head. Then, with a roll of thunder, he was near her again. The earth crumbled. Cracks engulfed waters and gleaming walls emerged from the ground. Of the former lake only remained the rivers, which now surrounded a small castle.
Arthur looked down at the blade he was still holding. Its weight was at the same time familiar and repulsive. He read the Latin inscriptions on each side. 'Fetch me.' 'Cast me away.' Precious jewels were embossed in the gold: amethyst, emerald, aquamarine, ruby. On the blade itself a diamond was cast, which color was constantly changing.
He bent on one knee, and held the sword to Morgana, like she had done long ago, with another blade, another challenge.
« Keep it. Its time has yet to come. »
She took the sword. He had accepted she was not coming back. She'll stay in the castle of glass, the Lady of the Lake, guardian of the Celestial Sword. And one day, when Camelot will be ready for Magic again, Arthur will come here to claim Excalibur, and his once and forever Queen.
The end is only the beginning.
Beyond the door
There's peace I'm sure.
And I know there'll be no more...
Tears in heaven
N/A: … I love you Granny...