Chapter 7


Merlin bit his lip, rubbing at the abused skin on his shackled wrists. He quite desperately needed to change the subject.

"Okay then," he said. "So, I made a spell to fix the evil witch."

That startled a chuckle from Arthur. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

"Did it work?" asked Merlin.

Arthur glanced at him, eyebrow cocked.

"I mean, did it make her better?"

Arthur smiled.


The next time Morgana was born she was Arthur's daughter.

In this life he had returned to his old profession as a blacksmith, after finding an offputtingly young Merlin at a farmer's market. For his part, Merlin had rather enjoyed the dirty looks sent Arthur's way for embracing a stranger that was clearly just about to enter puberty.

Since Merlin was still living with his parents, Arthur packed up his few possessions and relocated to their little town by the lake. It reminded him strongly of the stories Merlin and Freya had told him about her hometown in her first life, and how they had dreamt of making a life together in a place like this when they first met. He brought this up with Merlin, and the child gazed thoughtfully at the calm surface of the lake.

"I suppose it is," he said, voice solemn. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Will you look for her?" Arthur asked.

Merlin pressed his lips together. "Maybe when I'm older, I don't know."

Arthur looked at him askance, and Merlin gave a sigh that belied his young appearance.

"I love her, and we were happy, but…" he frowned, "she isn't essential. I don't want to be like Gwen was, waiting and searching for a relationship my whole life that may not even be what I want anymore. If I find her, maybe we'll do the same again. But I don't need her."

Arthur said nothing, thinking of the long years that he and Merlin had spent looking for each other in each of their lives. There had never been another option.

In time, Arthur met a pretty girl with flowing red hair called Roslyn. She brought him apples from the tree behind her house and danced with him in the town hall after harvest. She was beautiful, and kind, and he married her under an arch of white flowers by the lake. Merlin wound white ribbons around their joined hands and the village cheered, throwing flower petals over the couple.

Two years later, an exhausted Roslyn held her new baby girl in her arms, gazing adoringly at the tiny bald head.

"Have you thought of a name?" asked Arthur, stretched out beside her. The midwife had only just let him in, huffing at his insolence, but the risks of childbirth had always terrified him, for obvious reasons.

Roslyn did not hesitate. "Morgana," she said, and Arthur tensed in shock.

"Are… are you sure?" he asked, blood pounding in his ears.

"Yes," she said, decisively. "I know it's unusual – I've never met a Morgana – but don't you think it just fits her perfectly?"

Arthur looked at the little baby girl and found that he agreed wholeheartedly. He supposed that this must be the strange compulsion that caused each new set of parents to name him 'Arthur'.

Sprawled beside his wife, Arthur watched his child warily, wondering what he would do if their soul magic hadn't worked, or even if it had. In his time on Earth he had been a jailor, he had been a warrior, but he had never been a father. He wasn't sure if he could cope with raising a child that had once grown into the most vicious killer the land had ever seen.

In Roslyn's arms, the baby girl shifted in her sleep, one arm flailing over her head. Against his better judgement, Arthur felt a swelling sense of warmth in his chest, driving out his doubts.

This child was Morgana.

And she was his daughter.

He dropped a kiss upon her forehead.

When he told Merlin, who was now the lanky teenager with the bizarrely wide smile he had been when he first arrived in Camelot, his only reaction was to blink in shock.

"Well," he said. "That's convenient."

Over the years, the two men watched over the child as she grew, searching for any sign of the old madness, or any sadistic tendencies. Merlin regularly scanned her for magical potential, enveloping her in his magic and looking for a response, but none was forthcoming, and the baby simply gurgled in ecstasy at the feeling and tugged on his overlarge ears.

Morgana grew quickly into a lively girl with a tinkling laugh and a talent for growing flowers. And if any of the local boys taunted her for her obsessively green thumb, she tackled them and quickly introduced them to the wonders of soil smeared across the face.

At first Merlin was alarmed by this, but Arthur simply laughed in fond remembrance.

"Are you kidding, Merlin? Once, when Gorlois and Morgana were in Camelot, I told her the dress she was trying to make was gaudy, and she sat on me and forcibly sewed me into it."

He chuckled, nostalgically. "Remember, before the magic and Morgause, she was still the woman who stood up to my father when he decided to execute a child. She used to smuggle bread to starving citizens and could outride most of my knights."

Merlin watched the young girl pick herself up from her perch upon the village boy and dusted off her dress, completely self-satisfied.

"You still might want to stop her bullying the other children, Arthur. Otherwise I swear to you, witch or not, she will be the most terrifying teenager in the valley," Merlin said with a small smile.

"Give her a minute," said Arthur, watching his daughter with a small grin. "That boy's been stealing Roslyn's crumpets and I want to see if Morgana scares him enough to scarper."

Merlin cast a sidelong glance at his friend, whose face was full of pride and affection. He found himself desperately wishing that his spell would hold true. He wasn't sure if Arthur would survive losing this Morgana, so like the girl he grew up with but happier, freer, with a mother and a father and no god-awful prophecy dragging her inexorably towards a life of pain and loneliness.

Morgana happily stalked away from the properly cowed young boy, finally catching sight of her father and freezing in place.

Arthur's face slipped effortlessly into chastising-father mode.

"Was that any way to treat one of your friends, young lady?"

"He's not my friend," said Morgana, looking at her boots with red cheeks. "He said my roses were floppy."

"He is one of your friends," corrected Arthur. "You go fishing with him every week. But he won't do that anymore if you're mean to him."

"But he…"

"Made a mistake," said Arthur in a firm voice. "He was mean and he shouldn't have done that. But if you lash out who everyone who hurts you even a little bit, you'll drive them all away and be stuck on your own."

Arthur bent down and ran a hand over her softly braided hair, gently guiding her head up to look him in the eye. "You like having all these friends, don't you? Little Margie and Devon and Rinn?"

Morgana pursed her lips, but grudgingly nodded.

"Then you mustn't try to hurt them or scare them. If they're mean to you, you tell them to stop. Or you come get me, okay?" She nodded again.

"Good," smiled Arthur, "because I've seen how those children are with you, and I think they like having you around too."

Morgana's eyes twinkled. "Of course they do," she said, with a mischievous grin. "Look at me!"

She raised her arms by her sides in a parody of angelic glory, and Arthur laughed heartily.

"Very true, beautiful child," he said, kissing her hair.

She whirled away, giggling, and ran after her fallen friend. Merlin watched her, still wary but slowly relaxing into contented affection.

He would be ready if she turned, but for now she was loved.

Merlin and Arthur never found any of the others in this life. They hoped that Gwen and Lance married again. Their relationship had been perfect to the point of blinding, and Merlin had no doubt that they would spend their entire lives searching for each other if that's what it took. For their part, Merlin and Arthur were content in their little village. Merlin chose not to marry this time. It simply didn't fell right. And he had family enough in Arthur, Roslyn and their daughter. Ros had practically adopted him as he grew up, delighting in his mostly harmless magic tricks. He kept his more spectacular talents to himself, quietly honing his skills should they ever be needed, but unwilling to draw any unnecessary attention to their little village.

However, on Morgana's sixteenth birthday, Merlin broke his rule and set up a phenomenal fireworks display, happily obliterating the terminal peace of the sleepy village for a single night. Morgana watched the exploding flowers and coiling serpents in undisguised reverence, curling into Merlin's side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered. Merlin grinned, and flicked a wrist, causing one of the snakes to rear up and bellow out a massive plume of rainbow fire. Morgana's breath caught and she held onto him tighter, laughing in awe.

"I wish I had magic," she said, gazing up. Merlin looked down, pursing his lips. He sent up a shower of falling stars to keep the spectators occupied and grasped her arm, turning her to look at him.

"No," he said. "You don't."

She frowned at him in confusion.

"This," he said, gesturing to the light show. "Is for you. All for you. But that's not all that magic is. Sometimes it's responsibility, and hard work. Sometimes it's pain, and sacrifice. Sometimes it's death. And sometimes," he said, gazing at her in anguish, "having magic means losing everything that matters to you."

Morgana stared at him, seeing layers of aching sadness and loss that she had never noticed in him before.

"Uncle Merlin," she said, watching him in fascination. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Yes."

"You're protecting me."

"Yes."

She gazed at him, taking in his sincere, fierce expression. Slowly, she nodded, tucking herself back into his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I love you," she said.

And Merlin smiled.


A/N: And Morgana returns to the world. I hope you like it. I'm always intrigued by the impact of memory on personality and identity. Hence why I'm writing this really.

So apparently was automatically filtering mature-rated fics from my feed. Two words, guys: Get stuffed.

In the next chapter, we return to the modern day, and the evolving relationship between Arthur and New Merlin.