A/N: Again, I've decided to split this chapter up for a few reasons. It was getting freaking long. And I have midterms this week, and probably won't finish the rest of the chapter until this weekend, so I didn't want to make you wait, lol. There's kind of a natural stopping point, so I think it works. :)

Well, I'd like to think I'm the mess you'd wear with pride.
- "I Go to the Barn," Band of Horses

Morgana slowly paces the length of the hall, watching Arthur, Merlin, and the other advisers out of the corner of her eye. They've been shut up in this room all morning, searching for answers in a pile of maps and books. She's dying to get outside, to go ride out into the town and simply talk to the people. They're bound to have a better idea of where this plague has originated than any book.

Arthur's slumped in a chair, his fist against his mouth as he stares at the floor in thought. Merlin's at the window, leaning against the frame with his back to the company as Gawain, Balin, and the rest of the knights study the maps and papers laid out across the table.

A tense silence hangs heavy in the air. The illness spreading through the kingdom is unlike anything they've seen. The city has been dealing with the influx of sick people from the provinces for days now, but even Merlin's stumped, and they've failed to come up with either the sickness's origin or a way of stopping its spread.

The group's attention shifts towards the door as it opens and Gaius walks through. Carrying a tome, he walks across the hall and deposits the book on the table with a thud.

"The symptoms are getting worse," he tells them as he flips through the leaves.

Morgana runs a hand over her eyes. She doesn't want to be hearing more bad news, not when she can't do anything about it.

"But the good news," Gaius continues soberly, "is that I've seen this sickness before, years ago."

Arthur and his knights look up.

Merlin, suddenly alert, steps next to his old teacher. "What is it? Can you cure it? Where is it coming from? How can we help?"

Morgana smiles slightly as the noble physician holds a hand up, effectively cutting off Merlin's spew of words.

"One thing at a time, my boy."

Merlin drops his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry."

Arthur, resting his hands on the table, asks, "But he's right. We need to know what this means. If you've seen it before, that means it can be cured. Tell us how we can stop this."

A crease appears in Gaius's forehead. "That's the difficulty. Last time, this plague was the work of a sorceress in Cantia."

"Cantia's nearly three days away on horseback," Arthur frowns.

"And there's no guarantee it's the same sorceress this time," interjects Morgana.

"Well, that is the information I have. Beyond that, I know no more than you," Gaius says.

Merlin scratches at his ear while the knights cross their arms and scowl in bewilderment.

Finally, Arthur declares, "We have to risk it."

"But sire," begins Gawain, but he closes his mouth at a glare from his king.

Arthur stands and says, "Merlin, Balin, and I will take some men, go to Cantia to find this sorceress. The rest of you will help Gaius and Mordred look after the sick."

Morgana twists her lips broodingly. "And what if this is a trap?" she asks. "What if we're meant to believe all this in order to lure you out of the castle?"

"You mean, to attack Camelot in Arthur's absence?" Merlin asks.

She nods, and all eyes return to Arthur.

"Gawain will head the defense of the city while I'm gone."

"And what about me? What shall I do while you are off hunting sorceresses?" Morgana asks.

"You will rest. And stay away from anyone who is infected," he emphasizes.

Morgana rolls her eyes. Men. Ever since she found out that she was with child, the men have been tiptoeing around her, like she's a piece of glass that will shatter if they speak too loudly, or walk too quickly. But honestly, she isn't far enough along for anyone to be able to tell, physically, that she's carrying. If she spends the next seven months like this, coddled and not allowed to participate in anything for fear of breaking, she may just go mad.

Merlin sends her a smile from across the table, and she calms a bit.

"Surely there's something I can do, Arthur."

"Why can't she help Gawain?" Merlin suggests. "She isn't an invalid, you know."

Arthur, shooting Gaius a look as the physician stifles a chuckle, says, "I know that. But I just want you to be careful, Morgana. There's no sense putting you in undue danger."

"Well, thank you, Arthur, but I've always been able to take care of myself."

Arthur shakes his head, a smirk on his lips. "Just, don't cause any trouble while we're gone, okay?"

Mordred intercepts her as soon as she crosses the threshold into the hall that he and Gaius have repurposed into an infirmary.

"I'm sorry, Morgana," he says. "You can't be here. King's orders."

Morgana narrows her eyes at him. "Mordred," she pleads. "You can't be serious."

He's sixteen now, growing into a man. After living in the castle for a year, under Gaius's apprenticeship, he's learned to check his temper and to control his childish outbursts. But one thing she thought would never waver was his loyalty to her.

He shakes his head, a smile on his youthful face. "It's too risky. Arthur would kill me if you caught this illness. Not to mention what Merlin would do to me."

Frowning, she crosses her arms and rests her back against the doorway. "So I am to be of no use? Again?"

She's back to being twenty-one again, feeling useless when Arthur and Merlin leave her out of the loop, or when Uther excludes her from matters of state.

"We could use supplies," he suggests.

"Of course," she nods, suddenly filled with purpose. "Right away."

Obediently, her mind already focused on her task, she turns away.

"Morgana, wait."

She stops and looks back at him. "What is it?"

"Perhaps there's one more thing you can do."

"Anything."

He swallows, shifting nervously from one leg to the other. Finally, he says, "I want to go to Cantia."

Morgana scrutinizes him. She's taught him what she knows, but he needs more than that, much more if he's going to live up to his potential . . . if she's going to stop her dreams from coming true.

She still has nightmares of him, but they've changed. They're no longer of Mordred and Arthur on a bloody battlefield. They're dreams of darkness, overwhelming feelings of inexplicable sorrow. Mordred will leave, she knows now. He will abandon them, and she will be left with only regret.

"Mordred," she begins quietly, "that's Arthur's decision."

"But you have Merlin's ear, and the king listens to Merlin."

"Maybe you should ask yourself," she suggests gently.

She knows of Mordred and Merlin's tense relationship, and knows that Arthur treats him like he treats any other servant, but if he wants this so much, he's old enough to ask for it himself. Isn't she supposed to be teaching him his way through the world?

"I know," he concedes with a frown. "But you have more influence with both of them. They won't listen to me. I'm too young."

A flash of anger briefly shows in his steel-grey eyes, and for a moment she can see the petulant adolescent he's trying desperately to grow out of.

But hadn't she felt like that once? Felt undervalued? Felt like she would trade all her possessions just for one person who would listen to her? In fact, the feeling isn't so distant as she would like, as this mysterious plague is proving.

Morgana sighs. "I'll talk to Merlin. But I can't promise anything."

Mordred breaks out into a smile, and the sight sends a pang through her heart. He doesn't smile nearly as often as he should. "Thank you," he says.

"You better get back in there," she tells him, gesturing to the infirmary. "Gaius needs you."

He gives her a nod before disappearing into the hall, and she watches him go, wondering how exactly she's going to navigate these tempestuous waters.

Morgana sits up in bed, a book open across her knees, her hair falling loosely about her shoulders. She has too much on her mind to really concentrate on what she's reading, but at least she doesn't have to try too hard to make conversation.

Merlin, though, is a natural talker.

"I hope she looks like you," he says, his voice slightly muffled as he pulls his tunic over his head.

"What?" she asks absently, glancing up at him.

He smiles. "The baby. I hope she looks like you."

Seeing the hope in his eyes, the joy on his face, Morgana can't help but return his smile. "How do you know it's going to be a girl?"

"Just a feeling," he shrugs before tugging off his trousers and changing into sleepwear.

Closing the book and setting it aside, she asks, "And what if we have a son, the spitting image of his father?"

Merlin, laughing, crawls onto the bed and snakes his arms around her waist. "Then I only pray he does not get my ears."

She chuckles and runs a hand through his hair before her smile fades.

"Hey," he murmurs, "is something on your mind?"

Morgana leans her head back with a sigh. "Mordred wants to go with you to Cantia."

He takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he replies, "Gaius needs his help here. Why does he want to come anyway?"

"I think he feels . . . like he can contribute more than we let him."

Merlin raises an eyebrow at her. She's never really understood the restrained animosity between these two, but she respects that they keep their distance from one another.

Irritated, she rolls her eyes. "Fine, Merlin, if you want to refuse his help, that's your decision. But he can be of use; I know he can."

"Why do you defend him so vehemently?"

"Why are you so determined to dismiss him?"

He runs a hand over his eyes. A frown etched onto his face, he explains, "Because Kilgarrah once told me . . . bad things about him."

"What are you talking about? What sort of things?"

The wariness in his eyes gives her pause, reminds her of what she felt when she'd first had dreams of Arthur and Mordred. Those dreams have changed though. Surely that means she's helped to change the course of events. Then she remembers the darkness, the sorrow. What if the future she's creating isn't necessarily better?

Still, she has to try.

"Just, he might be dangerous," he says.

"Isn't that all the more reason to take him in?" she pleads. "Merlin, he needs people like us, people like him who can understand his powers, who can help him grow." She takes a breath before softly adding, "Maybe we can save him from his fate."

"I thought that's why Arthur apprenticed him to Gaius. He's supposed to help him explore his powers, supposed to show him what it's like to live in the real world, not in the forest."

"Gaius stopped doing magic long ago. Maybe it's not enough."

Lips pursed, Merlin turns his head to look up at her. "What are you saying?" he asks.

What is she saying? All she's wanted to do is help Mordred find his place. But her powers lying in Seeing, and she's taught him as much as she can. He needs a true mentor. Even though Arthur's lifted the ban on magic, there's hardly been an influx of sorcerers into the city.

"What about you?" she asks.

"What about me?"

"You could teach him." Merlin sits up in alarm, but before he can reply, she continues, "Think of the influence you would have on him. If anyone can stop him from becoming what we fear he will become, it's you."

"I have responsibilities already. I don't know if I can add teaching an unruly adolescent to them."

She sighs. She knows how hard he works already, but he sacrifices so much for destiny. Why can he not see that this is the right choice?

Quietly, she slides down under the covers and turns on her side. Almost immediately, she feels his arm about her waist and his chin on her shoulder.

"I'll think about it, okay?" he offers softly.

"Fine," she says as she leans over to snuff the candle.

Darkness descends, but Merlin's never been one to go to sleep angry.

With a sigh, he says, "I can't think about it just now. I can barely think of anything but this plague."

She closes her eyes to shut out her thoughts. She doesn't want to think about Cantia, about what he and Arthur have to do there, about why they must do it.

He presses a soft kiss to her jaw before returning to his side of the bed. "When I get back," he murmurs. "We'll deal with Mordred when I get back."

She wakes with a start, breathing heavily from her nightmare.

The images are clouded, but the feeling lingers, that feeling of complete and utter loss. She remembers darkness, and sickness, and devastation.

And through it all, Merlin.

Morgana takes a deep, shaky breath.

This isn't the way it's supposed to be. They're supposed to be in this together, setting off on adventures together, saving the kingdom together. It doesn't matter what it is. What matters is that they're supposed to be together.

But now Merlin stands beside the ever-faithful Mercury, his saddle-bag packed and determination on his face.

Her arms crossed over her abdomen, Morgana glances over at Arthur and Gwen. Now that they're married, they've no need to hide their affection, and Arthur pulls his wife into a tender embrace. Even Balin and his sweetheart are exchanging whispered words. She slips a handkerchief into the brave knight's hand before leaning up on tiptoes for a stolen kiss, and even Morgana can see the worry in Balin's eyes.

But she and Merlin, while passionate, are not prone to being effusive in public. She would much rather have said her goodbye in their chambers, if only he hadn't already been gone when she'd awakened. Besides, this is expected of them. Rumors would start to circulate if Merlin were starting off on a dangerous mission and she were not there to see him off.

"I'm sorry," she begins quietly.

He offers her a small smile and replies, "Let's forget about that." He takes her hand tenderly in his own, fiddles gently with their intertwined fingers.

"I know you do what you think is best, but promise me to take care of Arthur. Promise me . . ." She pauses to take a breath and swallow down the lump that's rising in her throat.

He's an idiot sometimes, a heroic idiot who takes stupid chances that very nearly get him killed. But nothing she can ever say will convince him to stop taking those chances. Which is part of the reason she loves him so damned much.

With an irritated sigh, she says, "Promise me to take care of yourself."

They're dancing around each other, avoiding gazes and refusing to say what they really feel. She doesn't want to bring up her dream from last night, doesn't want to plant thoughts in his head.

"I will," he responds, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Because you're my life now. Both of you." Smiling affectionately, he places his free hand on her stomach. "I will come back, Morgana. I promise."

"You better, or I will . . . pore through your books so I can find you when I die. You will never escape me."

Merlin laughs and pulls her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "Promise me one thing, though," he requests.

"What is it?"

"Be careful, okay? This will be a lot easier if I don't also have to worry about what kind of trouble you're getting yourself into."

She pulls back to glare at him. "Why do you and Arthur always assume that I'll get into trouble? I'm not a child, you know."

"I know that," he replies calmly. "But you do have a tendency to . . . forget about yourself whenever you feel passionately about something. And now that we have a child to consider, I hope you will remember to put yourself first."

Frowning, refusing to admit that he's actually right, she simply nods.

He kisses her hand. "Remember, I love you."

She presses a kiss to his lips and whispers, "Come back to me."