Chapter One
Eye of the Augurey
–
There is a thin line between
love and hate.
–
"This really has been... interesting," said Morgana in an exasperated tone, "but I wish to be alone."
"No one who says that ever really means it," said Gwaine, smiling in the infuriating manner that drove Morgana to take another hefty sip of her mead.
A heavy clap of thunder shook the wooden table the pair occupied, a bit of ale sloshed out of her metal mug. Morgana wished the storm would end, and she didn't just mean the rain, but she just didn't know it yet. A bolt of lightening illuminated the night sky through the opposing window as drops of rain pummeled the glass, never had Morgana seen such fury from the skies. Maybe the gods were punishing her, she smirked at the thought. The gods could do nothing more to punish her, she could no longer feel anything anymore. Pain did not faze her, she'd suffered too much already.
The poison that wretched traitor, Merlin, had fed her had torn up her insides. She cried out in utter pain for weeks, feeling her organs burn with a ferocity unlike any other. She wished for death, she begged for death, and if it hadn't been for Morgause and her tender care then she would have surely had her wish granted. She'd never told her dear sister, but she thought that some of her pain could be placed on her breaking heart. Her most trusted friend had stabbed a dagger through it, and left her incapable of love, of trust ever again. She had given him everything, given him her entirety, and he had betrayed her in ever way a person could be betrayed. Her grip tightened around her mug.
"I enjoy my solidarity," she said quietly.
"I find that hard to believe...?" said Gwaine, carelessly shoving a strand of hair behind his ear. "Sorry, love, I didn't catch your name."
"Because I did not offer it," she said.
"Aw, come now, I gave you mine," he teased, pouting his lips in a mocking manner, "and my real one at that. I didn't even give you one of my many aliases."
"That was your decision," she frowned.
"How about I guess then?"
"Out of all the names in the world, what makes you think you could possibly guess mine?" she asked, annoyed.
"I've been known to be quite lucky," he smirked. "I think you underestimate my guessing abilities."
"Guess away then, you fool," she said, rolling her eyes and flicking her wrist airily at him before returning to her drink.
"Let's see," he said, squinting at her as if she was a complicated piece of art (and really, she was). "I can tell you are not of common make, common blood, I mean. So your name couldn't be something average, run of the mill."
"And what makes you think such a thing?"
"Well, several features," he grinned, enjoying her sudden interest. "Your skin for one–"
"My skin?"
"The color, really," he said. "You have no tan, which leads me to believe you spend little times toiling away in the fields all day. You most likely spend your time within castle walls."
"Why could I not be a seamstress?" she asked indignantly. "I'd spend my days inside, tailoring dresses and such."
"But you are not," he said simply. "Your hands are flawless, no seamstress can avoid the burden of callused fingers. See–"
Gwaine had overstepped his bounds. When he reached out for Morgana's hand and began pulling it towards him, the raven-haired beauty had gripped her dagger with her opposing hand and had pressed the blade against his throat before he knew what was coming. He didn't respond in the fashion that Morgana had expected or wanted for that matter. Gwaine froze with his hand around Morgana's wrist, but he did not flinch, or seem at all that surprised to have a knife to his throat, which led Morgana to believe that it wasn't the first nor would it be the last time he'd have such an experience. Gwaine's eyes rested upon Morgana's now fully exposed wrist and more specifically on her healing bracelet. She suddenly felt rather exposed herself, uncomfortable even as a sly grin slowly crept across Gwaine's handsome face. His dark eyes gradually abandoned their gaze upon her bracelet to meet Morgana's fierce green orbs. Her face was intense but oddly curious.
"Ah, and I wonder what name a sorceress bares," he whispered.
Morgana instantly dropped her hand baring her weapon from Gwaine's throat and looked up at him with doe eyes. She awkwardly cleared her throat and slid her dagger away without meeting his eyes.
"Such a brash accusation," she said, trying to conceal her uneasiness. "You speak treason, sir, such allegations could have grave consequences for me in Camelot."
"Your secret is safe with me," he smirked, placing his index finger to his lips and winking an insufferable wink at her.
"No such secret exists," she hissed. "What makes you think I attain such power?"
"No mortal being can bare an eye from the Augurey," he said astutely, nodding towards the gem upon her wrist. "Only those of the old religion can wear the eye."
"And how would you know such a thing?" she seethed.
"When your home changes as commonly as the colors of the sky you tend to run into characters just as colorful along the way," he shrugged. "I picked up a few things when I was in the south of Eire, from an old witch who made her living selling such trinkets to her kin. She paid me a wage in exchange for a bit of carpentry work. It makes sense now, why you're so attractively hateful."
"What in heaven's name is that supposed to mean?"
"The eye," he explained. "It's from a bird that is a species of a phoenix, sometimes called the bird of death. The eyes have been used to make jewelry with sole purpose of making the wearer virtual puppets to the enchanter. May I ask who gave you such a generous gift?"
Morgana rubbed her hand over the bracelet, working it from side to side as she did when she was nervous.
"A very dear... friend," she said quietly.
"Ha!" Gwaine snorted. "I would certainly not consider anyone who gave you that little token of their affection to be dear and most definitely not a friend. It was dark magic that gave you that bracelet, and you are most definitely subject to its power."
"Liar," she hissed.
"I've been called many things in my life," said Gwaine apathetically, "but never a liar."
"I have no reason to believe you," she snapped.
"And you have no reason not to either," he said wisely.
"No," she said coldly, more to reassure herself than anything. "No – it is not true."
"I'm not going to force you to believe me," said Gwaine, shrugging his shoulders and taking another sip of mead. "You're free to do as you like – er – well, I guess you're not since you're wearing that bracelet. Anyhow, if you wish to prove me wrong then simply remove the bracelet and wait awhile to feel the effects disappear."
"Wait awhile?" she repeated, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"Well, the effect wouldn't just disappear like that," he said, snapping his fingers for good measure. "It takes time for the enchantment to fade just as it took time to take hold of you."
"That is preposterous," she snorted.
"Is it?" he smiled.
Morgana frowned, looking down at her favored bracelet once again. She's worn it since Morgause had left it on her bedside table in the middle of night over a year ago. Since then, she'd changed of course, but that was on her own accord. She furrowed her brow, deep in thought, but a strange thing happened. She couldn't remember what had made her so hateful. Yes, Merlin had put her over the edge and Uther certainly had it coming, but she'd had the opportunity to kill the king in the past and she saved his life instead. She promised herself after that day that no matter what she had to do to protect herself and her kin, she would not resort to spilling blood in the process... even Uther's.
It was not because she had suddenly realized Uther was a kind and just king, far from it, but she knew that it would destroy Arthur, and she could never hurt him, never. Yet what she was mixed up in now would do just that. Why had she never recalled such a thought before. She had so willingly agreed to help Morgause, and she's used her as a vessel... and Merlin had to kill her to save himself, Gwen, and Arthur. She blinked a couple times, suddenly feeling frightened. She's taken the bracelet off before, though for no more than a day. She remembered feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her chest towards the end of the hours without the piece of jewelry, but that had to just be a coincidence. She swallowed hard and looked back up at the handsome pariah.
"It is too bad that you will not be able to see how wrong you are," said Morgana, trying to regain her composure. "I will leave this pub, remove my bracelet, and in a couple weeks when I feel no such change then you will not even be around for me to say 'I told you so.'"
"I'm always around," he smirked, "and I'm always up for a good 'I told you so.'"
"How endearing," she said, rolling her eyes and taking to her feet, "but the storm has appeared to have stopped now, and I really must be going."
"I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again soon," he grinned.
"Oh, I hope not," she said, pushing in her chair. "Goodbye, Gwaine."
"Goodbye, Lady Enigma," he smirked, creating a substitute name for her lack of one.
Morgana didn't look back at him when she left the pub, not even when she mounted her steed and not even when she reached the walls of Camelot. However, when she reached her bedroom, she thought of Gwaine as if she had. As she brushed out the knots in her long locks, Morgana looked down at her wrist, and with one swift movement before she could change her mind (or before someone else could change it for her), she tore the bracelet from her wrist, shoved it in her jewelry box and slammed it shut. She felt no different, and she didn't expect to, not really at least.
–
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