It grew colder and windier as they climbed higher into the mountains which made the moments when the clouds separated and the sun sent warmth down on them more and more welcome.
"I can't enter the city," Morgana said to Merlin's back as they rode. "They would arrest me on sight." Unless the people who recognized her first lynched her without waiting for the king's justice.
"You can wait at a small valley in the forest. The sides are too steep for a horse and it's protected by enchantments so if someone comes near they simply don't notice the valley. I'll bring Arthur there to meet you."
Arthur. King Arthur. Her brother was king; that seemed strange even though all their lives they had known the time would come, Uther had seemed immutable, timeless and unchanging, a permanent fixture ruling Camelot with an iron fist. Arthur was still young. How did he feel about Uther's death? How did Arthur feel about her now that he knew she was his sister in blood as well as spirit? Did he know she had plotted his death? Did it matter anyway what he thought of her or whether they ever repaired their friendship as long as he changed the laws and vowed to never forbid magic again?
"What kind of king is Arthur?" she asked.
Merlin glanced back at her before he answered. "He's done well. Uther hasn't truly reigned since –," there was a pause, "– since the city was retaken. Arthur handled all the rebuilding himself and pacified those demanding that everyone who sympathized with magic be driven out or executed."
"Why didn't Arthur do exactly that? He had reason to."
"He wouldn't persecute loyal citizens who committed no treason."
There was a time when he would have, or at least he would have carried out his father's orders to do so. Compassion and impartiality were not values his father taught him; strength and courage, yes, but untempered by any thought of questioning the king's judgement. What Uther decreed was right and any who disagreed with him were wrong.
In that way, she had been more like Uther than Arthur had. Why had she let Morgause convince her that he was like his father? That Morgana would be a better ruler? Had it only been because Morgause knew she could control her sister as she had tried and failed to control Arthur?
They rode in silence after their brief exchange with only the scolding of squirrels and birds disturbed by their passing and the occasional gust of wind rattling branches above their heads. When they began to descend out of the White Mountains, she looked up in surprise at the bright spot masked by clouds which marked the sun directly overhead and realized it was midday.
They stopped long enough to share the food Viviane had provided, sitting apart in silence. Morgana was nibbling pieces of dried apple and cheese when Merlin moved to sit next to her, not touching but within reach. She continued eating.
He picked up a small stick and dragged its tip through the dirt and moss.
"Morgana, if you and Arthur make your peace then you can return home to Camelot if you want."
He looked up at her and a quick stab of longing made her heartbeat quicken before reason took over again. She forced down the last apple slice, then dusted off her hands.
"No," she said. "Even if Arthur and I reach a truce, there's no going back for me. What the immortal soldiers did and what," she swallowed, "what Morgause did, I'm to blame for that."
He would have protested but she held up a hand.
"At least, people blame me. I couldn't live among their hate. And my presence would be a constant reminder of the way magic can be used to hurt people, and you don't need that. It will be better for me and everyone else in Camelot when I'm forgotten."
A part of her hoped he would argue with her but he went back to dragging the twig through the dirt.
Abruptly he drove the stick into the ground and clasped both her hands. "I can go home, then, back to Essetir, if you want me there. I know it's too late but I can be there for you now, to help you, to share magic with you. Neither of us has to be alone anymore."
At first she felt only shock, then smug satisfaction, and finally resignation. She tugged her hands away and stared at them so she did not have to watch his face. "You have to go back to Camelot. Arthur knows nothing about magic; if he makes this pact he'll need your guidance even more. Plus you have to show people magic can be a force for good."
"You're doing that by helping protect Arthur."
She sighed. "But my motives will be suspect. People will assume the worst whatever I do."
"I understand."
She gave him a sharp look but could not tell if he agreed with her or thought she was making excuses to get rid of him. She stood to shake dirt and leaves from her cloak. "We should go."
Morgana stared at Merlin's tall back as they rode. She had told him the truth about the impossibility of her returning to Camelot but even if all the animosity was swept away, even if Arthur welcomed her back with open arms, she would not go; it was not her home. The law there said that upon Uther's death, Arthur was her guardian with power to decide where she lived, what she could do, and who she would marry and she was done with getting her way only through persuasion and manipulation. In Essetir her word was all that mattered and she relished that. In Essetir, magic had a place, a use. Despite Arthur's best efforts, it would be years before sorcery regained acceptance in Camelot. She would not go back. Even if she was tempted by the thought of having Merlin in her bed. They had been friends and mortal enemies, why not lovers?
There was a rustle in the dried leaves beneath her horse's hooves and it shook its mane as it danced sideways. Absently she patted its neck. She and Merlin had had the same destination but they had taken such different paths, opposite paths which continually crossed each other as if their futures were entwined together. Which of them had made the right choice? Was there any right and wrong or only choices and mistakes and asking forgiveness and trying again?
Merlin halted at the edge of a dense thicket. The wind died away and she realized it had warmed since their descent from the White Mountains. Above, the clouds were lighter grey and beginning to break apart.
They dismounted and he took care of both horses while she waited, her wrapped scabbard cradled under one arm and her pack of belongings in the other. He took her pack and made as though to reach for her hand before he paused uncertainly. Other than the brief moment of holding hands when he asked her to stay, there had not been any physical contact between them since she left her pallet that morning. Perhaps their truce had been simply the magic of the Isle that brought them together, although the shiver that went up her arm when she took his hand in hers contradicted that.
He led her down a steep incline through thick brush covered in buds under tall trees. Squirrels scurried from branch to branch, pausing to chitter warnings to each other and a crow voiced its displeasure at the disturbance. She was glad for Merlin's steady hand when the dirt slid from beneath her foot before she caught herself by squeezing his hand tightly and letting him balance her, the wrapped scabbard clenched tightly under her other arm.
The ground levelled out just before they reached a clearing with an enormous stone in the middle ringed by steep, wooded hills and Merlin released her hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of a sword hilt sticking up from solid rock, a gold hilt emanating an aura of magic. It shone softly and she could imagine what it would look like if the sky were not cloudy and the sun reached down to halo the metal blade.
It was the sword Merlin had been holding when he broke into the room where she guarded the Cup of Life. So there was another magical gift waiting for Arthur, a sword perfectly suited to the scabbard she had wrought.
"It's beautiful," she said.
A soft smile lit his face at her praise. Merlin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then he set down her pack, took one step closer to her, and kissed her. She returned the kiss, letting her worries fade for a few precious moments until he broke away to rest his forehead against hers, one hand on the back of her neck.
Finally he stepped back. "You'll be safe here while I fetch Arthur."
Nerves fluttered through her stomach at the prospect of facing her brother so she nodded without speaking.
After Merlin gave her an encouraging grin and disappeared into the trees, she sat down on the tall grass. The enchantment which protected the tiny valley from notice shimmered at the edge of her vision and she reached out to wrap a corner of it around herself. Then she opened the saddle bag and ran her fingers over the red silk sheltering the scabbard, her eyes on the sword in the stone.
King Arthur tiredly scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the inkwell in front of him on the table in the silent Council chamber. Muted sunlight filtered by the red and yellow window panes cast faded coloured squares on the table. That morning they had discussed plans for his coronation while all Arthur could think about was that his father was dead, as lifeless as the stone image being carved for his tomb. Guinevere had tried last evening at supper to ease his grief by her presence and Gaius had given him some fatherly words and a pat on the shoulder, not that Arthur could now recall a single word the physician had said. To add insult to injury, news of Odin assembling his army near Camelot's border had come quickly on the heels of the announcement of Uther's death.
Arthur had expected Merlin to do something stupid or annoyingly cheerful to make facing this morning's session tolerable but his manservant had been missing since the day before. Someone who was not Merlin had woken the king and respectfully served him a sumptuous morning meal. Arthur had been oddly disappointed at the lack of inane banter and meagre breakfast he was accustomed to receiving from his manservant.
If Merlin was still his servant, Arthur was not certain if a sorcerer could be a servant. Especially a sorcerer who was his closest friend and advisor. Who had protected him with magic. And now Arthur was going to acknowledge his acceptance of magic with a vow. Merlin had told Arthur the Druid – Iseldir – had come with a message from someone named Viviane who had decreed it was time for the king to formalize his agreement with the Druids and accept the promised magical aid. Merlin had offered to be his emissary and promptly disappeared leaving Arthur to face the gut-twisting plans for a celebration of his ascension to the throne alone.
The door to the Council chamber opened and he snapped out a reminder that he had asked not to be disturbed only to look up at blue eyes and a gangly frame wearing a ridiculous neck scarf and brown jacket.
Arthur expressed his relief at the sight of his friend with his best imperious frown. "Merlin, where have you been?"
The angular face grinned at him. "Magical places."
The answer sent a bolt of fear straight through Arthur and he almost glanced around to see if his father had heard before he caught himself.
Merlin sobered at whatever expression the new king wore before approaching as respectfully as he ever did. "The Druids have sent the aid they promised you."
"I can't sweep away a generation of fear and hatred, I can't change people's hearts and minds overnight."
"I know it will take time, but if you lead, others will follow."
Lead others into accepting magic before Uther was even cold in his tomb; they were going to think him disloyal to his father's memory. Then Arthur reminded himself why his father had maintained his campaign of revenge: it had been his own guilt and fear and not out of concern for the kingdom or his people.
Arthur stood, brushing away his father's ghostly protests. "Where do I meet with them to seal this pact?"
Merlin looked nervous and Arthur felt a twinge of dread.
"Not far. I'll take you, but someone else is also there waiting to speak with you."
Arthur's forehead crinkled. "Another Druid?"
"No. Morgana."
A thrust of furious anger boiled up inside. "She tried to destroy this kingdom, she wanted me dead, and her betrayal destroyed our father. I told you she could never return here."
"You are king now, and if you show her she has no reason to fear you the way she feared Uther, she may become your most loyal supporter."
Yes, she had probably been frightened of her magic if, as Merlin said, it was not her choice. That did not excuse her treason.
"Many think of her as their champion, if you gain her allegiance you win their loyalty as well."
Meaning other sorcerers, clearly. But was that not what he wanted? To show those with magic he was sincere in his offer of peace? If he and Morgana could put the past behind them, then his people would be safer for turning enemies into allies.
Although Arthur tried to maintain a regally non-committal expression before he acquiesced, a wide grin split Merlin's face.
"Let's go, then."
The king frowned at his friend's ease in reading him. The ability to conceal thoughts was an asset to a ruler. He was simply not as good at controlling emotion as his father had been, definitely not as good as the inscrutable Druids. Had they always been so guarded or was that a result of twenty years of secrecy?
"Wait. Send for Leon and a handful of knights to accompany us." He wanted witnesses to his pact with the Druids in case anyone tried to say he had been forced or enchanted. Arthur's newest knights had never served under Uther and, with the exception of Elyan, never lived in Camelot before. Besides being capable protection from potential treachery, they would be impartial witnesses to this pact. Leon represented the king's Council not only because Arthur trusted him absolutely, but also because in Arthur's absence he would be Regent, at least until there was a queen, and it would therefore fall to him to maintain the alliance forged today. This was a public declaration. No more secrecy.
"And, Merlin."
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Fetch Guinevere as well."
Merlin gave him another foolish grin. Arthur suspected his friend knew why a serving maid was being summoned for a treaty mission: because the next queen of Camelot needed to be there.
It was late afternoon by the time they reached a thicket in the forest. Arthur followed closely behind Merlin with Gwen shooting nervous glances at his back while Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan trailed after them as squirrels chittered and crows cawed at their passage.
The thick barrier of clouds broke and Arthur looked up, blinking at the sun sending light and warmth down on him. He hoped it was a sign of his father's approval from beyond the veil, that Uther had made peace with magic at last and let go his guilt and anger.
"We go on foot from here," Merlin said when he stopped to dismount.
The others followed suit. Arthur lifted his arms to Guinevere as she slid off her horse, her hands on his shoulders. He brushed his lips against hers, the sight and smell of her reminding him why this pact was important, why a kingdom should be a place of peace where a man and wife could make a home and raise children.
After he released Guinevere, Arthur took her hand to help her down the steep embankment. At the bottom was a large stone in the centre of a tiny clearing with the hilt of the most beautiful sword he had ever seen stuck fast in a chunk of solid rock. Overhead, the last clouds slid away sunlight slanted into the clearing to surround the sword.
Arthur stood motionless, staring in awe, blinking at the bright sunshine reflected from a golden hilt and shining blade which called his name. The birds and animals had fallen silent as though watching and even the air was still.
Gwaine went straight to the sword and tugged but it remained stuck. Percival chuckled and with a flourish Gwaine invited him to try his hand. The big knight grasped hold of the hilt and pulled but the sword did not budge. He pulled again, bare arms bulging with the effort, but the blade remained immovable.
Elyan strode to the stone, shaking his head at the efforts of his fellow knights. "You can't yank on a beautiful weapon like that. You have to ease it out of the stone in the same direction it was thrust in." He took hold of the hilt and attempted to lift it straight up, tugging a few times before wiggling it from side to side when it did not budge.
Gwaine crossed his arms and gave Elyan a condescending look.
Leon rolled his eyes at the lot of them and exchanged a glance with Lancelot over the foolishness of their comrades trying to remove a sword that had obviously been buried in solid rock by magic.
Elyan grimaced and was about to step back when his brow furrowed and he leaned closer to examine the blade. Then his eyes widened and he looked at Gwen whose gaze was also fixed on the golden hilt. She tilted her head and sent an inquiring look at Merlin who merely shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin.
Before Arthur could lay his own hand on the sword, a woman arrived at the far side of the clearing followed by a tall man. Both wore woollen cloaks with wide hoods to shroud their faces, the man's a blue-grey and the woman's black. Arthur thought he recognized the man and his supposition was confirmed when the grey-haired man lifted away his cowl. The woman, who must be Viviane, was also grey-haired with black brows and piercing brown eyes which fixed on him appraisingly.
Then his attention fell on another figure who had been seated motionless under a tree near the clearing's edge. His stomach knotted at Morgana's sudden appearance, though she must have been sitting there when he arrived. She respectfully acknowledged the Druid elders with a reverence he had not seen her offer anyone, not even King Uther. The grey-haired woman returned the greeting with a warmth that spoke of familiarity, then Morgana came toward him.
"Hello, Arthur."
Guinevere stepped protectively to his side, eyeing her former mistress. Morgana looked from one to the other as she approached them. The knights came to attention and Leon stepped in front of the king but Arthur waved him back.
"Morgana." His greeting came out colder than he had intended.
She paused in her approach before resolutely coming to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry, Arthur."
Her tone was soft, so unusual for her that he blinked in surprise before his anger reminded him what she had done.
"You didn't have to attack the city, Morgana, you could have come to me instead. Why did you want me dead? What did I ever do to make you fear me?"
A tear glimmered in her eye and he clenched his anger tighter to swallow the sympathy clawing its way up his tight throat.
"The boy I knew wanted nothing more than to please his father."
"I grew up, Morgana." He expected her to lash out at him and he tensed.
She sighed. "I trusted the wrong people, I let other people's opinions override what I knew was right." Her gaze slide to Gwen. "I thought none of you would accept me."
"Because you had magic or because you were plotting to kill Arthur and steal his throne?" Gwen asked.
Morgana straightened where she stood. "I wanted to get rid of Uther and I couldn't let Arthur continue his father's work."
In the face of her calm, his voice gentled. "But you never spoke with me about it, Morgana. You never gave me a chance." Arthur clenched his hands. Merlin had not trusted him, either. Why did they look at him and see Uther? Once he made this pledge they would know, everyone would know, he was not his father and would never rule the way Uther had.
"I'm giving you a chance now, Arthur."
Morgana lifted her hands and he saw she was holding a bundle of red silk. She spread the wrapping to display a beautiful scabbard worked in gold and silver thread on scarlet velvet. The symbols stitched on it glowed faintly and he knew the lovely piece was enchanted.
A spear of suspicion pricked him and he glanced at Merlin. If the spells she had put on the sheath were meant to do him harm, he did not dare take it no matter how lovely it appeared. But Merlin gave him a slight nod.
"As long as you wear it, it will staunch the blood of any wound you take," Morgana said.
The value of such a gift was not lost on him. He stared into Morgana's green eyes, hoping he saw his sister again, a woman he had thought lost to him when she sat in their father's throne and allowed herself to be crowned Queen of Camelot.
He reached out to take the scabbard, but as his hand closed around it Morgana gripped it tighter.
"I must have your promise that you will go beyond mere tolerance and acceptance; that you'll create a world where those with magic are truly free and unafraid."
Arthur's eyes darted to Merlin and back to his sister's intense gaze. This was what they had both been waiting for, what they had both been striving for in such different ways, and what they were both asking of him now.
With one hand on the scabbard his sister had enchanted, Arthur met Morgana's green eyes steadily. "I promise."
Morgana let go of the bundle and the red silk draped his metal gauntlet. He removed the sheath from its wrapping to run his gloved fingertips along the velvet before he belted it around his waist. A faint tingle shivered through his blood.
His gaze lifted to the silent watchers in their wool cloaks, hands clasped beneath enveloping sleeves. Iseldir smiled and Arthur caught his breath in surprise at the expression of emotion before he smiled back. Then he met the intense brown eyes of the woman. She lifted her right hand, palm out, and he returned the gesture.
Guinevere was gazing at Morgana. Abruptly she folded the sorceress in a hug that at one time would have been typical for them but which they had not sincerely shared in years. Morgana's eyes were bright when they broke apart.
Morgana drew away. "I thought I couldn't trust you, that you were on Arthur's side."
"You and Arthur were never on different sides."
"I thought we were." Morgana's eyes went from her former maid to her brother.
Arthur held out his arm in a gesture of peace. "I'm not your enemy, Morgana, I never was."
She gave a small smile as she clasped his arm at the elbow. Her hair was loose and her gown much the worse for wear and for a moment she looked like the girl who had played at sword-fighting with him. A wish that they could go back to how it used to be gripped him, yet as ruler his first priority was the security of his people.
"I am sorry, but after all you've done you cannot be allowed to remain in my kingdom."
Her only reaction was a regal nod. "I have a place where I belong. I hope to number you among my allies."
"I promise Camelot's protection to Essetir and I rescind your death sentence. I never agreed with that judgement."
Her hand tightened briefly before she let go.
Arthur turned away from her and his eyes fell on the sword. He looked at Merlin, then at the two silent Druids, then at his knights, then back at the sword. His blood tingled again and his fingers twitched inside his gloves.
"It's stuck," Gwaine said.
"No, it's waiting for Arthur," Merlin said.
Arthur remembered Percival's strong arms bulging in his unsuccessful attempt to free the sword. Only magic was going to remove it. Merlin's magic. With the unspoken promise that by claiming that sword, he admitted magic was by his side, his right hand, defending him and fighting with him.
Arthur walked slowly across the clearing until he stood in front of the stone, then he reached out to take hold of the hilt with one gauntleted hand. Guinevere and the knights crowded closer, their eyes fixed on him where he stood clasping the sword's golden hilt. Even Morgana could not take her eyes away.
Flames licked up around the blade and he flinched but did not let go. Arthur's eyes met Merlin's and he saw the glow of gold as the sword slid smoothly from the stone until the blade came free and Arthur held it above his head watching sunlight shimmer on the blade along with a magical flame. High above, a dark shape with a wingspan the width of the clearing circled in the sky and there was a rumble that sounded oddly like laughter but none of it drew his attention from the fiery sword or the tingle that had intensified until it shivered along every nerve ending.
He lowered the sword and laid the metal across his palms. His eyes met Merlin's.
"It has power to kill anything, mortal or magical, living or undead," Merlin said quietly.
"Like Odin's son?"
"Yes."
"Can it cut through metal the way Odin's sword is rumoured to do?"
"No. You'll have to defeat him with your own skill, but once your enemy is wounded the sword's fatal power will not easily be denied."
Arthur nodded first to Merlin and then to the two Druid witnesses before he slid the magical sword into the enchanted scabbard. Then he approached the grey-haired woman who stood with her hands folded over her black woolen cloak. As he got closer he realized with a start she was a full head shorter than he was even though she had seemed to tower over him.
Guinevere moved to his left side and Merlin stood at his right. His knights were ringed in a semi-circle behind them.
"You have accepted the protection of these items of power. In return we ask your vow that our people and all those who practice the Old Religion will be treated with respect equal to any of your people, that you will deal fairly with us as with any who are your sworn subjects, and you will never again allow anyone to be punished simply for the gift of magic. Do you swear?"
Arthur's voice came out clear and strong. "I swear."
The Druid woman nodded regally at him. "Then, Arthur Pendragon, you will enjoy a long and prosperous reign."
He heard Guinevere let out a pent-up breath beside him. When he looked down, she gave him an approving smile. He glanced at Merlin. Sure enough, his eyes were teary. He better not expect a hug. Arthur looked back at the elders.
"My coronation will be the day after tomorrow; I would be honoured if you would both be there." The words were out before he knew he was going to say them, but they felt right.
The woman's grey-haired head dipped with her nod. "We gladly accept."
"Tell my knights when and where to meet you, and they will escort you safely into the citadel." Arthur gestured at Lancelot and Percival.
The woman lifted her hand once more and Arthur returned the salute. Leaving the Druids to give instructions to his knights and then depart as quietly as they had come, the king turned to see Morgana standing where he had left her.
"One of my knights can escort you to the border. Gwaine –"
"No."
Merlin's vehement objection surprised him and he raised a brow at his friend.
"I can see her safely to Essetir."
"You have to be here for the coronation." The idea of being crowned without Merlin's presence at his side caused a feeling of emptiness Arthur chose not to examine.
"I wouldn't miss it." Merlin grinned at him in his annoyingly cheerful way that utterly reassured the king.
"Fine, then." Come to think of it, a sorcerer would be a better escort for his sister than a knight however strong and well-armed he was.
Merlin moved to stand beside Morgana and Arthur narrowed his eyes at the two of them before he shook off the odd notion that they seemed to belong together.
He glanced down at Guinevere again before he faced her brother. "Sir Elyan, would you and your sister please join me for supper tonight?"
Both sets of brown eyes regarded him in surprise, then a smug smile curved Elyan's face. "We would be delighted, Sire."
His sister gave him a sharp look before her eyes went wide and fastened on Arthur. He gave her a sly smile, delighted at her shocked expression. Leon beamed. Lancelot's face was carefully blank.
Arthur offered Guinevere his arm to escort her back to their mounts leaving his knights to follow them out of the secluded valley. His free hand caressed the hilt of his new sword as he glanced back at the two sorcerers watching him leave. Merlin grinned foolishly at them, his eyes shiny again.
Merlin watched Arthur escort Gwen from the clearing trailed by his five knights and blinked to clear the moisture from his eyes.
"He's going to propose to her," Merlin said with a smile.
Morgana gave him a horrified stare. "He's the king now, he cannot marry a servant."
A sharp hurt knifed into Merlin. "Why not?"
"Because his wife will be the queen and her children are going to rule some day and …" Whatever she was going to say trailed off at his expression.
"Because a commoner cannot possibly understand what it means to be queen?" he asked.
Morgana softened her tone. "Gwen is my friend – was my friend – and she is a dear person, but if she was meant to be a queen she would have been born noble. Nobility are educated to shoulder such responsibility."
So, what had happened between them on the Isle of the Blessed was only because she had seen him as Emrys, because she had been stirred by the ancient magic which permeated the walls, the ground, the water, the very air of that sacred place which roused the magic in both of them. He was, after all, only a servant.
"It's late," Merlin said tightly. "We should get as far as we can before dark."
"Merlin."
She laid a hand on his arm and he looked down as if her fingers were snakes about to bite him.
"You're not just a servant, you were born with power."
He cocked his head. "Why?"
Her brow creased.
"Why did I get this power and not some nobleman's son?"
She puffed out a breath. "I don't know, but there must be a reason."
"Then maybe there's a reason Arthur is in love with Gwen. Maybe she was born to be a queen."
"It isn't the same. I understand now why you never behaved like a servant, not really. Now I know who you are and why you put up with Arthur for so long. It was all for this day, the day Arthur was king and he accepted magic." She paused and tilted her head, her green eyes brittle. "Was it worth it? Was it worth all the sacrifices?"
Was it worth her life, she meant. Fresh guilt surged up at the memory of her going limp in his arms when the hemlock cut off her breath. Another part of his soul had withered then, like it had the day he brought down lightning on Nimueh's head in anger to snuff out her life and the day he turned the axe and sent it flying back toward Edwin Muirden who was as scarred on the inside as he had been on the outside and every other time someone had died at his hand.
"You gave me a terrible choice, Morgana: watch you die or watch Arthur and Gaius and Gwen and Leon and everyone else I loved die. Even then I almost couldn't do it. I wished that Knight would kill you so I didn't have to. I still don't know if I did the right thing or if there was a right choice. Sometimes all your choices are wrong."
Her eyes slid away. There had been no trace of remorse in Morgana's face that day she gave him an icy smile and handed him over to her sister knowing that Morgause planned a painful death for him or when she had held a sword to his throat in the crypt.
"I hoped you could forgive me," he said. "Even after you threatened me and I knew you had chosen Morgause's path, I hoped one day you could see there was another way."
He followed her gaze as it went to the large stone in the centre of the clearing and then to the point where Arthur had disappeared into the trees.
Finally she met his eyes. "Yes, there was."
A thread of hope that she might finally forgive him shrivelled when she held up one hand.
"But I do not agree it was right to wait so long when you could have stopped Uther much sooner."
She lifted her chin to hold his gaze until he sighed heavily and dropped his eyes. If only he had been honest with her when she asked, he might not need her forgiveness now or have to offer her his. But the past was done and could not be changed and there was no way to know what could have been. He had chosen his path and she had chosen hers and both of them were convinced of the rightness of their choices.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I am so sorry we cannot be friends again."
"No." She tipped her head to the side. "No, we are not friends. But if we are not enemies any more what are we?"
A wry grin twisted his mouth. "Two sides of the same coin; light and dark, love and hate." Who was who he was not certain.
Her dark brows pulled together in her perfect face. "What does that mean?"
He shook his head. "Nothing." Merlin took a deep breath. "I think it's wonderful that you made Essetir a safe place for those like us and the Druids. Even with Arthur's help, it will be a long time before people in Camelot are comfortable around magic again."
"Because of Uther, or because of Morgause?"
"Both. But you're making it better, and that's wonderful. Thank you."
The satisfaction that suffused her face at his praise made his breath catch. She really was incredibly beautiful. She was also a queen, far beyond his reach. Their world was not the world of the Druids. Their homes were here with kings and queens and borders and politics. He had found his home by coming to Camelot and she had found hers by leaving.
He cleared his throat. "We should go. You need to return to Essetir and I have to be back here the day after tomorrow."
"Yes."
Merlin wondered if he only imagined that she sounded as full of regret as he was.