VII
Old habits still died hard as Arthur woke up at dawn the next morning. The house was silent, and he stayed in bed a moment, lying on his back. He was edgy. Something was lurking in the back of his mind, bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. After a while, he got up, dressed and picked up his sword.
The terrace behind the house was spacious and protected by tall trees. The sun was still to rise. The air was a bit chilly, but Arthur didn't mind. Taking the hilt of his weapon with both hands, he lifted it above his head, and started practicing. His body protested after nearly two days of complete inactivity.
It took a while before his shoulders and his arms warmed up so he felt comfortable with the exercise. Physical effort was a relief. Moving, hitting, sparing was easy, like a second nature. He was born to fight, to watch over Camelot and to rule it. Morgana had taken that from him.
A little breathless and vaguely depressed, Arthur let down his blade. He had to find a way back. His place was in Camelot. He had to get back. But Morgana didn't want to go. He rubbed one hand over his face. Morgana had no obligations to Camelot but her good will. She ran the household, filling the duty of the First Lady. She chaired feasts or enhanced tournament winners with her praise to please his father; One day, his father was to dispose of her, marrying her off for some strategic alliance even he, Arthur, would find nothing to object to. He resumed his training to fight the sting of cold air.
Married to some foreign lord, she would be safe. And he could summon her to the Court, had her visit sometimes. If she stayed here, he would lose her forever. He accelerated the movements, adding parades and lunges to the original simple ballet. For minutes, he stopped thinking, entirely dedicated to the exercise. Sweat was damping the back of his shirt now.
Arthur was unsure what caused the pounding in his chest, the work-out or the conflicted emotions he felt for Morgana. She was nothing like Gwen; sweet, lovely Guinevere. He loved Gwen. Morgana was complicated. She was hard. She was passionate. She was his match in every way. Gwen was nice, and cute; Gwen had lifted the enchantment over Vivian; Gwen was his true love; he remembered her cute lavender dress, one of Morgana's old pieces of clothing. He still could smell her perfume, peaches and orchids, a scent Morgana loves too. He had kissed Gwen, and tasted Morgana.
"Arthur?"
He turned brutally, gripping his sword as to his own life. She was incredibly beautiful, draped in his cloak, bare-foot in the grass with her long wavy hair flowing on her shoulders. Oh God. He was in love with Morgana.
Arthur took a step back. He could nearly hear Merlin laughing at him. 'About time you realize that…' Hearing his own voice surprised him; he had forgotten what words were.
"I didn't mean to wake you up."
She walked to him and he took another step back. Confusion flashed in her green eyes, but she stayed still. He talked again before she asked.
"I just needed to move. I need to stay fit, or no one will believe our story of your rescue when we come back."
When, not if; our story; he insisted on the 'we'. He needed to know she would always be within his reach, even if it was condemning her to a lifetime of nightmares and fear, or a mismatching marriage. He was selfish. So what? She accused him of being so often enough.
"You didn't…"
Arthur authorized himself to drown in her fascinating stare.
"What?"
"You didn't wake me up. I was awake already. I'll ask Claudia to visit the Castle today. Will you join us?"
"If you like."
He was nearly barking his brief answers. Morgana stopped him by the arm when he walked by her. Her fingers on him were burning.
"You don't need to act like a jerk to make me feel bad. I told you I was sorry. I just wanted…"
"To protect me. Yeah, I got that part."
She didn't let go of his arm, her cheeks coloring on temper. He didn't care for maddening her. Maybe if she yelled at him, wiped him off like dust on her clothes, the beating will put him out of his fantasy, misery, whatever. He tried to focus on her speech, rather than her lips moving.
"… Do you think it's easy for me Arthur? I see you hurt, or dead, every other night. I see Camelot burning to the ground. Do you think it was easy to witness all I care for being destroyed night after night, and not being able to warn you about it?"
Arthur kept his mouth firmly shut. She cared for him. She had unclenched her fingers from his shirt but her stormy green eyes fixed on him were grounding him. She was so clearly upset he gave in, and cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the soft skin gently. She cared for him. The gesture calmed her. He dropped his hand when Morgana closed her eyes to the warm of his caress.
"You're going to freeze if you stay here. Come back inside."
She nodded, and let him escort her into the house.
He was helplessly in love with the only woman he could not have. Now he had a problem; another one; a major one.
They followed the other tourists (Claudia didn't fully explain the word) along the walls to the former Great Hall. Morgana breathed slowly, fighting a twist of pain in her heart. Eric had warned them, that things might look different. Tintagel's fortress had lost its impressive majesty. The gardens were wild with bushes now. The rampages were ruined. Only a few original walls stood from the castle. But it was still beautiful. The view over the sea was exactly what she remembered.
The guide was delivering his speech, and one name picked up her interest.
"… her sister Morgause. Arthur provoked her furor when he rejected her. She avenged on the worst way. She knew of Queen Guinevere and Lancelot's mutual attraction, and enhanced it, pushing them to adultery… The betrayal destroyed Arthur and his dream of a perfect world. Without his faith, the kingdom broke into pieces, and Camelot disappeared. But…"
Morgana felt the shockwave before she saw his face. A vicious cramp forced her to grip Claudia's shoulder before she fell on her knees. Unable to stand straight, she pressed her hands to her stomach. The air was so thick and it was so hard to breathe.
"Wow, what's happening to you? Arthur! Morgana… Arthur!"
Claudia was talking but the noises in her head were muffling the sound of her voice. She was cold. She was feverish. Her heart was braking. Not, not her heart… His! Morgana fought the darkness invading her to watch his tall figure approaching. He was white as a sheet. Claudia held out her hand to him.
"You look terrible too… Oh God, I hope it's not some post-effect of your time-trip… Morgana, sit down. I'm calling Eric… No, first, we need to go home, I'll call him afterward. Stay here, I'll get some help. No, better you come with me… Oh my God… Morgana, can you walk?"
"Claudia."
How did she manage to sound so calm? She wanted to scream. It hurt, oh it hurt.
"Go. I just need a minute. We'll be fine. Go."
"You're sure? Fine, I'll be right back."
The young woman obeyed and ran down the path to the exit.
Morgana sat on a boulder before her shaking legs gave in under her. His pupils were so dilated she could barely see the blue of his eyes. It burned her to ashes. His emotions were thrusting into her, filling her up with despair, pain. There was so much anger…
"Arthur, please…"
Her stomach revolted. Another fierce wave hit her, and she inhaled sharply. Breathing was excruciating. Nausea burned her throat. The pain was unbearable, like a white hot blade piercing her heart. Couldn't he see he was killing her?
"Arthur, stop!"
She grabbed him; he didn't flinch when her fingers bit into his arms. His thoughts were echoing in her head, bouncing against hers. He was so angry, so lost. He was scared; scared to fail, eager to please, lonely so lonely. She was disappearing under his feelings, barely a spark, vanishing into emptiness. She moaned, unable to muffle the sound.
The turmoil inside her withdrew slowly. The wrath turned into sadness and guilt. Morgana unfastened her hands from him; her head was spinning. Arthur closed his arms around her to scoop her up. She rested her fore-head on his chest, exhausted. Her magic was linked to him. She had always known, deep inside, that it was.
"Let's go out of here."
She didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to face the consequences. She just listened to the beat of his heart as it calmed down, and let him carried her away.
A/N : Forget it... You can't escape the green button...
