Visions of the Things to Be
Morgana would like to think that she knows Arthur quite well.
She's lived with him for several years now, and they're quite close to being actual siblings. They bicker, they mock each other, they play favourites with Uther, and they support each other and love each other.
She knows when Arthur is doing something that he'd rather not, but will because it's the right thing or he's honour-bound. She equally knows when he's doing something that he really shouldn't be but he's going to do it anyway.
This is one of those times.
But it's an extreme version – now that he's sober and actually thinking straight, he's set and fiercely determined to the point where he doesn't even comment on her clothes. He did say to wear sensible clothes, and she couldn't think of anything more practical than leather breeches and high boots and a warm tunic. Yes, they're men's clothes, but she's had them altered to fit her frame in the hope that one say she'd be able to go off with Arthur on one of his outings and they've been in her wardrobe for a while now.
Arthur says nothing as they hurry down the stairs and out towards the stables as the midday sun hangs low in the winter sky, just grunts once or twice, hoisting himself up onto his stallion and not waiting for her before making his way out into the courtyard. She feels a pang of annoyance, but then remembers why he's acting this way, and forgives him.
She always does, in the end.
**
Morgana follows him for several hours, sometimes at a walk and sometimes at a canter as they make their way across the kingdom, the light slowly fading. She has no idea how he knows which way to go but he's only faltered twice, and both times it's been a fleeting moment and he's quickly picked up the pace once more.
"Do you know where you're going?" she asks after several hours, pulling level with him for the first time, and he ducks beneath a branch.
"I have no idea," he admits, not taking his eyes off his route, and she feels her eyes shoot up.
"So how do you know that we're going the right way?" she points out, and he just shrugs, he face relaxed but intense.
"I just know. I can't explain it, I just… I can feel him," he replies, voice barely above a whisper, a small frown creasing his forehead. "I don't know why – he took my magic, there's nothing left between us any more."
"But you still love him?"
"More than anything."
And Morgana knew the answer to that, of course, but she needs to make sure that Arthur knows too. It's worth repeating nearly every minute of the day if just to confirm it in his mind.
"Well then. Maybe that's how you know."
Arthur nods, and Morgana knows that somehow, he's refusing to see the real reason even though it's quite plain to her.
**
The only reason Arthur agrees to rest for the night is because Morgana dismounts from her horse and refuses to move.
He wants to keep moving through the night, and she doesn't blame him of course, but she knows that he'll be of no use to Merlin exhausted and drained. He relents, after a long argument, and then he's asleep within half an hour. She makes a mental note to mock him for it when this is all over.
Morgana dreams.
She dreams of all-consuming light, white and gold and red, and two hearts beating in time with each other. She dreams of time, stretching out before her and strands of light add to it for a short while before flickering away, fading and disappearing before sometime rippling back in to entwine with another. There are only that stay tangled and perfect until the end.
Morgana knows what it is that she dreams of.
She's not sure what wakes her later, if it's the hooting owls or the gentle breeze, but there's an almost unnatural light coming from Arthur so she sits up and looks over at him, and is entranced.
Sparks are flickering over his fingers, and there's a small glowing ball of light rolling gently in his palm. He's whispering one word over and over and over and she doesn't need to get any closer to know what it is.
She remembers something that Arthur said to her when Merlin was poisoned and smiles, then lays back down and closes her eyes.
When she wakes in the morning, the light is gone. She says nothing about it.
**
As midday rolls around the next day, Arthur stops in front of a large cave and dismounts, tying his horse off at a nearby tree. Morgana follows suit, and Arthur pauses several metres away. She remembers, again, what he told her about Merlin's poisoning and his consequent mission and lays a hand on his shoulder.
"He's in there," Arthur says simply, and unsheathes his sword. "I want you to stay out here, and promise that you won't come in after me. Whoever has taken him is powerful and you'll only be in danger. This is my fight."
Morgana considers protesting, but then sees the look in his eyes and changes her mind. He's right – this is something that he has to do himself. And if there is any trouble, his own magic merged with Merlin's and their love will be enough.
"Be careful," she replies and he smiles, his eyes full of confidence and there might be a spark of gold in there too. But she could be imagining it.
"I'm not leaving without him," he murmurs, looking at the darkness ahead of him. "I've let him down once. I'll not be doing it again."
Morgana nods, hoping that he understands what's happening to him but thinking that he probably doesn't. But he'll work it out in time, hopefully.
She watches him walk into the cave and hopes that she's right.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins