Whoa, whoa, whoa there-who said anything about this ending with that last chapter? What a terribly depressing tale that would be? And no more sexy times? Come now, you should know me better than that. As many of the other reviewers pointed out, I do end every chapter with the word "FINIS"-yes, from Middle English, derived from the Latin verb "to end". However, I use it as the end of a chapter, not the end of a story. Actually, I don't have a signature word for the end of an entire story, except that I make sure that FF puts "complete" in the story stats. FINIS is also a little homage to Jane Austen (depending on your edition, she did it at the end of a volume or an entire novel).
So, make yourself a nice cup of tea, sit back, and read on. There's still a lot of S3 to get through. And quite a lot of unexplored sexual territory.
You gotta know that this is real, baby why you wanna fight it?
It's the one thing you can choose
I knew that when I met you, I'm not gonna let you runaway
I knew that when I held you, I wasn't lettin' go
~ "Runaways" by the Killers
Chapter 11
He sat in the saddle, silently fuming. Arthur was usually a prat. But this, well, this whole invite-Morgana-like-it's-the-good-old-days thing really took the bloody cake. Yeah, the prat cake, which was probably plum, Arthur's favorite. .
They'd barely been on the road for an hour and already he was thinking of way to get her to turn around. This could not be happening. She'd ruin everything. The situation was dangerous enough without adding the potentially explosive consequences of her presence.
Bad enough that she had him feeling like some sullen teen.
"No, thank you," she had said just yesterday with subtle coolness and a quick movement to guard her goblet. It was a taunt, a politely spoken one, but a taunt nonetheless. And it had found its mark with poisonous precision.
As if he needed to be reminded of his past indiscretions when every moment in her presence was reminder enough-her bad behavior, her traitorous turn to the dark side, he was in part responsible for that.
He bit back a curse as he glanced over at her, drowning out Arthur's manly speech about protecting Gwen.
The rest of the ride, they took turns frowning at each other. She'd grown more…distant over the last week, if that was even possible. He knew she knew about her true paternity, so it wasn't a surprising reaction. But there was a deeper coldness over her, something that radiated from her very being. It wasn't that the fight was done, indeed, if anything, it was still burning strong.
But it was almost as if she had frozen her heart entirely, like she had two switches-silly, laughing King's ward or chilly witch. Neither was very comforting.
And she'd kept him even more at arm's length. It was almost as if she'd forgotten their little game. He thought he'd be relieved but…those moments with her were so tangibly real. He felt like he was more himself during that time than he was elsewhere. Honesty in his words (except for his big secret), honesty in his emotions…sort of. At least, his passion was honest, even if he wouldn't admit it to her. Strange that Morgana could bring that out in him.
Maybe she too was tired of playing her role as the loving ward? Maybe she too craved some of the realness that sparked between them? Maybe those moments were real for her too?
But who was he kidding? She had other plans, plans that obviously made their game moot. Besides, she always manipulated the fire between them to lick at his heels. Her passion, her reaction was all part of the game. How naïve of him to think such things honest. There was nothing honest about Morgana anymore. This quest proved that well enough.
He didn't want her here. Not one bit. She was a distraction he couldn't afford, for more reasons than he dared explain.
By the time they stopped for the night, the snarky frowns between he and Morgana had worn down some of his initial annoyance. Maybe he'd missed this, maybe a little.
And he tried to keep up his enthusiasm for Arthur and Gwen's sake. Apparently they were having a great time, and they did deserve it. Well, Gwen at least.
But when Arthur had shooed him away and he had dumbly muttered "the wolves", he felt his enthusiasm die.
He located her nearly a mile away from camp, the silence of the forest pressing on them both.
She looked up and immediately a frown creased her brow. "What do you want, Merlin?"
He acted nonchalant, nonplussed to be stuck out here with her. "Arthur sent me. Wanted to make sure you were ok," he said casually.
"Very thoughtful of him," she murmured.
"He cares for you. You know, Gwen too. They're your friends. They've always been loyal to you," he said, emphasizing the last word. Did she still have a conscience? Was she still capable of feeling sympathy for anyone but herself?
"Why are you telling me this?" she said stubbornly.
"Because I don't understand how anyone would want to hurt their friends," he said sternly.
"No, you just poison them," she spat back, a look of so much pain and vulnerability in her eyes, that he couldn't meet her gaze. He looked down at his boots, feeling the same sense of shame that crept in at moments like this.
She was right. He had poisoned his friend, he had poisoned Morgana. What had made her so different? What had made her someone he couldn't save? Couldn't even try to save? Was it her affection for Morgause? Or was it the prophecies, the destiny of which Kilgarrah told him?
Or was it something else? Was it fear that had driven him to that action? Was he terrified of her power-her power to destroy? Her power over him? Was that action one of vulnerability instead of necessity?
"You would do well, Merlin to stay out of things that do not concern you," she said brusquely.
"Oh but they do concern me. They're my friends too. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect them," he said steelily. He meant every word. He would stop her. He'd done it before, he'd do it again.
She sauntered over to stand in front of him. There was begrudging respect in the eyes that met his. Also anger, but she was a little impressed by his words, his threats. "I would expect nothing less," she said, her lilting voice and full lips caressing every syllable. But her face became cold again, the hot emotion repressed behind a face of icy steel.
Then she threw the wood in her arms at his feet and walked off.
He turned to watch her go, the few logs she had gathered covering his boots.
It seemed like a gauntlet. And one he was happy to pick it up.
He quickly scooped up the wood in one arm and ran after her marching form. Catching up and walking in step with her, he said tauntingly, "You know, I remember when you weren't a bully, Morgana."
She stopped at that and turned to face him. "And I remember when you weren't a murderer, Merlin."
"Well you started it, didn't you?" he said. He did feel sorry for this actions, he'd apologized, hadn't he? But she needed to take some responsibility-Morgause had put the curse on her, not he.
Outrage showed in every muscle on her face. "Started it? How did I ever start something that would result in you poisoning me? You're a murderer, and now you're a liar," she said angrily as she began to walk off.
He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him, pulling her up against his chest. "What I did was wrong, but you changed, you made your own choices after that. Choices that you're making now.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm here to save Gwen's brother," she said with a shuttered glance.
"I'm not a simpleton. I know you have a plan here," he said with a hard glance. Her eyes were crackling with some dangerous emotion he couldn't name. She was so close, her body was pressed right against his. And he reacted, like the simpleton he just said he wasn't, he reacted to the feel of her so close.
She pulled her arm out of his and took a step back. "Why don't you stick to what you're good at, Merlin-carrying firewood and fetching horses. And stay the hell out of my way," she said with a smug smile.
Anger, irrational anger swept through him. He dropped the wood and pushed her against the trunk of a large oak, his body quickly following. He reveled in the small gasp that slipped from her lips. She wasn't unaffected. Maybe it was real, maybe her reaction was real.
That thought made me feel reckless, made him feel powerful.
She frowned and her eyes flashed as she said through gritted teeth, "Get off of me, I'll scream and Arthur will run you through where you stand."
He responded by worming his arms around her back and pulling her fully into his embrace and tilting his pelvis into hers. The fit was perfect, how was it that he hadn't noticed how well their bodies notched together? They hadn't been this close, not in the Great Hall when she'd taunted him, and not in the stables before that. He could count every one of her eyelashes.
His eyes flickered down to her lips and his breath caught. She was so lovely, even pissed off at him. But she was realizing just how close they were, she was feeling the same sense of rightness, of perfection that came with the position.
"I don't want you here, I don't want you on this trip. But you came anyways, so don't runaway now, sweetheart. Because I'm better at other things than carrying firewood and fetching horses. And I'll prove it," he said.
FINIS
I know, I know! (cowers under desk) I'm such a tease. But I promise to update sooner rather than later on this next chapter. We're going to switch perspectives and get back in Morgana's head. God, I love these two. I think I have some type of Mergana fever because these two are just burning me up. Any remedies? Aside from S5? Sadly, the youtube channel that I was viewing was suddenly shut down by the BBC or Shine.
How about this-crazy theories on how Merlin and Morgana will get together? Please review!
