Arthur awoke to a knock on the door. He was certain it was well past midnight and that the whole kingdom was asleep. Still, he forced himself out of bed and walked to the door. When he opened it, a beauty in rugged leathers and furs stood smiling weakly with a raven in her arms.

"Morgana?" he murmured, still rubbing his barely open eyes. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night."

"I wanted to see you," she said simply. "May I come in?"

Arthur, eyes finally open, nodded and opened the door for her. When she walked in, she looked around the room as though to memorize every last detail of it. She gave a sad smile when she hugged Ambrosius to her breast.

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked. "And why are you fully clothed? In rags, no less?"

Morgana smiled. "You never stop asking questions, do you?" she said. "Never did. To be honest, all three of those questions just have one answer. I'm here, fully clothed in rags because I'm leaving Camelot and I wanted to say goodbye before I do."

This answer seemed to have slapped Arthur wide awake. His eyes widened as he snapped his gaze towards his sister and he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He stuttered, but could find no audible words but for the words "What?" and "Why?"

"I should think it was clear why," Morgana said. "Arthur, I'm very grateful that you and your men came to rescue me, but I'm afraid it has all been in vain. Since I've come back here I've never felt so alone. When I was away I finally knew what happiness felt like. I was happy, Arthur. I could finally live and breathe without being told what to do or who to be. And now I've come back to them. Back to a cold home with all these rules and all these expectations. It's unbearable, Arthur and I can't stay here."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't think you would. Simply put, I'm going back to Edwin."

Arthur's heart raced. "No!" he protested and grabbed her by the arms. "You're not going back there, do you hear me? You can't! Not after all we went through to bring you back home."

"But this isn't my home, Arthur. I don't belong here. Don't you see that? If I stay here any longer, I'll become worse than Ambrosius in his cage. I have to go back!"

"Morgana…"

"I love him, Arthur."

Arthur froze. His eyes had grown as wide as saucers. He was speechless for quite some time as he recalled the way she had acted since she had returned. The way she smiled, the way she spoke of him and the way a mighty kingdom seemed no more than a rotting hut compared to a castle ruin.

"This," he said hesitantly, "has to be some spell."

But Morgana shook her head. "It isn't," she said. "I would know. I'm in love with the Son of the Dragon Arthur." She scoffed. "I don't even know why they call him that, he doesn't even like fire. But all I do know is that he needs me. I can feel it."

"You would know?" he said. "But…how? And what do you mean you can feel it? I don't understand."

"I know," Morgana smiled weakly and nodded. "Which is another reason that I have to leave."

Arthur's brow furrowed, but when Morgana outstretched her hand to him he was sure he must have been dreaming. He saw golden light flickering from her eyes as she whispered words of a long-forgotten language that he did not understand. Within seconds, the reddest rose he had ever seen had sprouted from the palm of her hand. He looked to his smiling sister with wide and fearful eyes, not sure what to think.

"You have magic!" he gasped.

Morgana nodded without expression. "Edwin taught me," she said. "He taught me everything."

All this new information was overwhelming to Arthur. So overwhelming that he felt his legs grow weak and he had to sit down without a word. Morgana sat next to him as she let Ambrosius rest on her shoulder.

"Do you hate me?" she asked.

Arthur thought a moment. He knew that he should have hated a witch who claimed to love the Son of the Dragon, but strangely he found he could not. He smiled weakly. "I should," he said. "But I can't. You are still my sister. You always will be."

Morgana smiled and took her brother's hand. "I will, and you will always be my brother. That is why I must beg you, this time, not to go looking for me."

Arthur sighed and caressed his sister's cheek as though to memorize her every last feature. He did not understand and felt he no longer knew her, but that did not stop her from loving her as he did.

"You really love this man?" he asked.

Morgana nodded. "I do," she said. "With all my heart."

"May I ask why?"

Morgana smiled. Even in the dark Arthur could see her cheeks redden. "Clearly, you already have. I love him, Arthur, because he sees me as I am and would have me no other way. As a wife he would see me as his companion and not his prize."

It was at that moment that Arthur saw his sister in a new light. For the first time there was nothing but content in her eyes. For the first time he understood. "Then," he said. "You have my word."

He regretted giving it to her, but Morgana smiled brighter than he ever saw her and she embraced him tightly, kissing his cheek.

"Goodbye, Arthur," she whispered in his ear.

Arthur did not want to say goodbye to his sister, so he chose not to, but before she could leave, he offered the rose she had summoned. Morgana just smiled and shook her head. "Keep it," she said. "As a gift in exchange for the one you gave to me." And she left.

Arthur simply sat motionless at the end of his bed with the rose in his hand as Morgana left him until he heard hooves outside. He stood, walked to the window and saw one shaded shape following another out the gate. He watched Ambrosius lead Morgana to where she belonged until she had vanished out of sight. He stood by that very window, sometimes crying, sometimes smiling until dawn broke and the alarm bell had summoned his knights to his chamber.

"Milord," one of them (he didn't care which) called to him. "The Lady Morgana has gone missing again."

Arthur looked to the rose in his hand. "No," he said. "No she hasn't. We needn't concern for her."

After long days and nights of travel she had reach the dark ruin of a castle that was covered in vines and webs. It was no shining castle nor mighty kingdom, but for the first time in her life, Morgana felt like she was at home.

When she opened the gates the castle looked different. It was still aged and decayed, but the roses that brought it to life were wilting. The air was colder than she remembered it, perhaps even colder than the fading winter. The creatures and critters were gone. There was nothing left but the stench of dust and the suffocating silence that consumed her. The only sound was her own voice calling Edwin's name. She called for him repeatedly, but heard no reply until a series of weakened moans and mutterings echoed from the gardens. For a moment she feared she was too late, but felt her heart leap when she heard Ambrosius' call lead her to his master. She found Edwin lying on the ground with Ambrosius pecking at his cheek in attempts to wake him.

"Edwin!" she cried and ran to him, cradling his weight in her arms. "Oh, Gods!"

He'd become light and gaunt, possibly starving, but she was relieved to find him even the least bit conscious. His breathing was weak and his words weaker, but she was determined. She took water from the creek in her palms and let the cool drink drip past his lips. It took three sips to open his eyes.

"Edwin!" she cried. "Edwin, wake up. It's me."

Edwin's eyes fluttered open and searched the gardens until they met hers.

"M…Morgana?" he wheezed.

Morgana beamed brightly with the most wonderful relief and nodded.

Edwin stared a moment and smiled. "Like Quasimodo and Esmeralda," he said. "Bringing water to the foundling when no one else would."

Morgana laughed through her joyous tears and embraced him. It took him by surprise, but he held her in return.

"You're cold," she noted. "Let's get you inside."

Morgana struggled to help Edwin back on his feet and found him as light as an underfed child. She led him inside before the empty fireplace, wrapping him in leathers and furs. She even tried making a hot drink for him, but he was still so cold. He was shaking. Morgana hated having to come to this conclusion, but she told him to wait and came back a minute later with firewood.

"What are you doing?" Edwin asked.

"I'm building a fire," she said sternly. "I know you don't like it, Edwin, but you need to keep yourself warm. You'll freeze to death, otherwise, and I won't let that happen."

"No," he worried. "Please don't!"

"Edwin, I will not let you die! You need to keep warm."

Morgana whispered to the wood and lit the fire. Edwin covered his eyes and shook in a panic, still seeing their agonizing faces in the flames, but Morgana sat before him in attempts to calm him.

"Shh," she cooed. "Edwin, it's all right."

But even with Morgana's hands at his cheeks, he still panicked. He was rambling in tears of how he could hear them screaming when he heard the terrible crackling and popping of the flames. He could even feel his scars sting against the overwhelming heat. Still, Morgana shook him in attempts to keep his eyes on hers.

"Edwin," she said. "Hush! Look at me, my love. Look at me!"

Edwin refused, but Morgana placed both hands on his cheeks and turned his gaze to hers so that he had no other choice but to look at her. She wouldn't let him turn away. She was sure she would die if he did. She felt him quiver at her touch when she caressed his melded face before her lips met his. She heard him gasp in surprise when she did, just like when she first kissed him.

This kiss was more passionate, however, much more so than their first. Morgana was the first to slip her tongue past Edwin's lips. Unfamiliar with the secrets of intimacy–often caring more for his studies than such affections–Edwin could only reflect Morgana's movements as he felt her arms wrapping tightly around him. All he could do was worship her as he allowed his hands to guide themselves all over her body and trailed his hungry mouth down her neck until she moved to sit astride him, stripping them both of every last layer until there were no boundaries left between them and they fell to the ground.

Morgana had been kissed many a time before, but never loved and when Edwin loved her she was consumed with a state of ecstasy greater than any magic. She cherished every sound she elicited from him and loved to see him shudder when she traced the scars on his back. He, on the other hand, showed a great fascination with her skin, tracing kisses and caresses along the perfectly smooth and white surface that was left completely unblemished by any sign of scaring or discolouration. She was perfect. Simply perfect.

The castle seemed to bloom to life when they came together.

When Edwin awoke, the fire was still lit. He didn't panic. He observed the golden colour that burned his eyes, not too different from her hair. The small hints of blue flickering from the black wood reminded him of his eyes. Its light was warm, just like their embraces. He did not see or hear their screams elicited from the fire, but their smiles.

"I was seven," he reflected aloud. "My parents were healers, just like you and I. But they practiced magic too. So did a lot of people, back then. During the Great Purge, Uther had commanded our home to be burned by his knights. Do you remember that little boy that you dreamt of? The one who tried to save his parents from the fire, but failed? I was that little boy, Morgana."

It was not long after his tale that Edwin realized that her eyes were open and welled with tears. He felt his throat run dry for but one moment until he felt her hand on his marred cheek.

"Is that why you ran away when I told you about my dream?" she asked.

Edwin nodded. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I suppose I was scared. I feared that if I told you, you would leave me."

Morgana gave a cold laugh. "Leave you?" she said. "After hearing all that?"

"Of course," Edwin said simply. "I feared you'd leave me for Camelot and have your father hang me."

But Morgana shook her head and took Edwin's hand, entwining her fingers with his and kissing them as though in pure devotion. "He won't," she said.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I won't let him."

Edwin felt a smile creep along his lips as he heard his own words come from Morgana's mouth. He beamed brightly and kissed her passionately, finding himself laughing. Morgana laughed with him between a thousand kisses and caresses. Eventually, Edwin stopped for breath and rested his head on Morgana's shoulder like a child, watching as his fingers entwined with hers as though in a state of hypnotism.

"You must hate me for bearing his name," she mused.

Edwin lifted his head with a furrowed brow, looking her up and down. He shook his head and placed a hand on her cheek. "No," he said. "You are nothing like him."

"You don't know that."

"But I do. Uther would never be so kind. Uther would not see beauty in the places that we do. Uther would not dress the wound of a sorcerer with a face like mine."

Morgana smiled weakly as Edwin wiped away a falling tear from her eye.

"Also," he said. "Uther wouldn't appreciate the writings of Hugo."

Morgana chuckled lightly through her tears. "He wouldn't love Quasimodo as I do, would he?"

Edwin smiled and shook his head. "No," he said. Morgana smiled and held Edwin's hand and leaned into it as she felt its fingers gently caress her cheek.

"Why did you come back?" he then asked.

"Because you needed me."

"More than your kingdom does?"

"It isn't my kingdom anymore. I don't even think Pendragon is my name anymore."

"What is it, then?"

"What was it that you called me when we met?"

"Le Fae."

"Why Le Fae?"

Edwin smiled and tenderly caressed her cheek. "Because the moment I saw you, I nearly took you for one. I thought you were the White Goddess. Same pale skin, jet hair and far too beautiful to walk with earthly feet."

Morgana laughed and kissed her lover, rolling herself above him. "Then I am Morgana le Fae from this day forward," she declared and kissed him thrice. "After all," she continued. "Morgana Muirden doesn't have quite as good a ring, does it?"

Edwin's brow furrowed in surprise just to hear the very name and he sat up as though to run, but he was perfectly still when he looked her in the eye. Morgana still sat astride him.

"What?" was all he could muster, but Morgana stroked his marred cheek with a sober smile. She took his hand in both of hers and kissed it like a knight to his lady.

"Edwin," she said. "You have shown me more kindness than I can ever imagine and even more beauty. You are a dear friend and companion to me, and yet it has taken me this long for me to realize just how much you mean to me. I love you, Edwin."

Edwin felt a great swell growing in the back of his throat and an even greater smile growing on his lips.

"Several times asked me to be your wife," Morgana continued. "The last time you did I begged you not to ask that of me again. And now I must ask you once if you will be my husband.

"Edwin, will you marry me?"

Edwin beamed a great smile and grabbed Morgana into a thousand kisses until they fell back to the ground. Neither of them were sure how much time had passed until he had given his answer, but it seemed evident enough through all the kisses, caresses and laughs they shared until Edwin finally said: "Yes."

It was only when dawn came that they realized that the roses around them had finally come in full bloom.