The druids, nomadic and used to sleeping under trees, make camp along the main road rather than take up residence in one of the numerous houses that ring the city. They will move on in time, that is their way, but as Morgana explores she feels an ever increasing excitement. This city can be teeming with people, people with magic. There could be schools, business and worship all within this secret place. But for that to happen it would not remain secret for long. Or safe.
Maybe that is what happened to the people who once lived here, forced to flee and abandon this place but not before protecting it…
Morgana ponders this as she searches the largest building within the city, which is laid out in rings. Small houses edge the outermost circle, the forest encroaching on them, the second circle seems to have been for business and entertainment, having found ivy covered squares and large empty markets. The inner circle consist of large stone houses, schools and at the very centre a massive, sturdy white tower, covered in ivy. Trees grow everywhere and as she had noted from a distance they enhance the architecture, growing in and amongst it. Balance.
The castle overlooks the river and as she reaches a banister and peers down she sees windows and balconies, even fountains. The castle flows down, built into the very rock face. It is beautiful and completely empty. It reminds her of Amata, a neatly laid out city but this place is benevolent and weaved with magic, the very essence of it mixed into the mortar between each stone. It should be a crumbling ruin but the magic used to create it sustains. Whoever built this place was incredibly powerful.
"Who lived here…?" she whispers to herself, brushing her fingertips along the marble stone before turning. Aithusa stands up on her back legs for a moment, clearly excited and then runs down a long corridor. Morgana smiles and gives chase. It has been two days since they arrived in the city and the dragon seems to be increasing in confidence hourly. Does she sense the magic in this place? Does it soothe her? If it does then she will make sure Aithusa has a home here, for as long as possible.
"Where are you going?" Morgana runs up a flight of steps and turns a corner to see Aithusa disappearing through a doorway. It is a game of hide and seek? She remembers when she and Arthur would play this, only this time there will be no trouble for knocking over some travelling diplomat. Breathless but smiling Morgana steps into the room and slows, squinting her eyes.
The room is long and dim, the windows so dirty and choked with ivy that only speckles of sunlight shine through. The room is lined with rows upon row of bookcases, so many that they got lost in the gloom. Mouth open she moves forward, looking at a row of bookshelves to her left, more than Morgana has ever seen. She thought her collection to be respectable but this is astounding. Hundreds, possible thousands. Not even Camelot can boast such a collection and she remembers getting lost once in that labyrinth.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
A quiet voice asks and Morgana sees Merlin sitting by a table under a window, a book open before him. A candle flutters next to the book, giving him a enough light to read by. She had not even noticed his presence. He is very good at that, making himself known only when it suits him, it shows the hallmarks of a good servant. She nods, eyes drawn back to the books as she slowly moves to him. She smirks.
"I think old Monmouth would die of bliss if he saw this."
"Ha! Right on the spot. I can't believe how well preserved it is and how old some of them are. I suspect some books were stored here for safe keeping during the Purge. Look at this, the pictures move," he taps the book before him and Morgana comes closer and looks down. A picture of a wingless dragon wiggles around the page margin as Merlin touches it with his thumb.
"It's magic. Think of the innovations these people must have been able to create without limitations…and all that we have lost through fear and ignorance," she adds bitterly.
"Well even if it wasn't lost I can't read it," he pushes the book away and Morgana looks down again. He's right, it is written in a language she has never seen. She looks back up at the shelves.
"They must contain so much knowledge, there must be tomes that are readable or a way to decipher those that are not," she bites her lower lip, excited. She will take a room in the castle and read as many of these as possible. Maybe they will answer what is ailing her…
"Well if you do find one readable let me know," Merlin sighs, standing. Morgana cocks an eyebrow.
"I little spell book reading before bed?"
"I need something to occupy me while I'm here."
"A book on the exploits of poor harassed servants perhaps? Maybe you should write your memoirs," she narrows her eyes at him playfully and he smirks at her before turning to look at Aithusa. The dragon has been quiet for a long time and Morgana sees that she's staring transfixed out of a broken window. Merlin pulls the ivy aside and looks up.
A mummeration of starlings swoop through the sunset sky, a great billowing cloud that shifts and dilutes effortlessly. It is beautiful but as Morgana looks down at Aithusa she feels a deep pang of sadness.
"I almost wish that she had forgotten the sensation but she must remember. Must miss it."
"Once you've felt it I don't think you ever forget…"
Morgana stares at his upturned face, which is oddly wistful, and smiles gently. "You speak as if you know."
Merlin looks down, smiling awkwardly and shrugs. "I dream of it sometimes...when I was a boy I would have nights where I would dream of nothing else. I used to collect feathers, keep them in my pockets until they were bursting. I thought if I had enough I would be blown away on the next breeze…"
"And what happened?"
"I climbed the biggest tree in my village, completely covered in feathers and trusted that the wind would carry me. I spread out my arms, took a deep breath and believed," he says, doing it, closing his eyes and tilting forward on his tiptoes.
"What happened?"
"Broke my arm and had this huge bump on my head for days," he laughs, lowering his arms as she shakes her head with a smile.
"Is that why you're called Merlin?"
"My mother must have known," he smiles softly, looking back up at the starlings. "Before I hit the ground, for a few seconds, I think it worked so it was worth the pain."
Morgana laughs and bends down beside Aithusa. "Shall I make you a coat of feathers?" she whispers and Aithusa looks at her, blinking before flapping her wings a few times. Merlin hums in consideration.
"Starlings have others to fly with but she's one of the last dragons. I think she just needs encouragement," he bends down beside Morgana who looks at him sceptically.
"Teach her?"
"Why not? I need to do something while I'm here. You have your priestess duties to deal with, I'll come to any important meetings to keep Arthur updated but that won't happen every day. I have until the next full moon," he nods, looking enthused and determined but Morgana does not feel so persuaded.
"She hasn't flown in almost two years, her leg is injured…I – I don't want any more harm to come to her," she struggles to voice it.
Merlin looks at her gently. "She'll be okay. I know she's been through something awful, something I wish had never happened…but she's alive and she seems happier every day. You both do," he adds and Morgana nods. It is the truth but for all the peace that she feels there will always be a pit inside her, a void and it is one she tries everyday not to fall into. She may one day but she won't drag anyone else with her.
"You're right; she belongs up in the air, with nothing to keep her bound. We'll both help her to fly again."
"But I'll be the first to succeed, I'll name a chapter in my memoir about it," he claims arrogantly and she hoots.
"Is that so? You seem very sure of yourself Merlin. As you've told me you don't have the best track record with flying…" she stands, mouth pursed in mischief and leaves him to smile behind her, Aithusa making a chirping noise in goodbye as she waddles beside her.
A week passes, days filled with exploring the city, meeting with enquiring women about joining her at the Isle of the Blessed. In the old days those who showed potential were taken to the isle at a young age. There they would rise through the ranks from initiate to Priestess but you had to be very powerful to be one of the Nine High Priestesses. There may never be another to share her title but she never thought she would have the chance to search.
Every morning, after breakfast, she sits within a tent, waits for those curious, and brave enough to approach her. Most look upon her with the serene, benevolent smile that she expects form the druids but others hover by the door, ready to jump out as if they expect her to curse them.
What else should I expect? Once I may have…
Pulling away from dark thoughts and memories, she focuses on Aithusa, who is perched on a low branch of a tree. At least she is getting somewhere with the ladies of the camp, the same cannot be said for the white dragon.
"You can do it!" Morgana encourages, arms outstretched. Aithusa had climbed a rock and gingerly lunged across into the tree. Now she is stuck, like an oversized cat too nervous to move. Morgana sighs, arms growing stiff. She could use magic to help her down and she should be able to without mishap but the thought of trying makes her stomach tighten in dread.
What if using it makes it worse? Like consuming spoiled food…
She had tried to channel magic in the days gone by and the larger the spell, the sicker she felt. She feels assured now that the Sister must have done something to her. Maybe after such a long exposure to the weed this is the result…
"They must have hollow bones."
Morgana looks up. Merlin stands on top of the rock, directly across from Aithusa. She had not heard or seen him approach.
"Like a bird…that was clearly your problem Merlin," she jokes and he nods, sighing before he reaches out his hand to Aithusa and speaks quietly. The dragon blinks at him, smoke curling from her nostrils and with a rather undignified jump she lands next to the servant. Morgana claps once, smiling as the dragon wastes no time scrabbling down from the rock and comes to her side. Merlin jumps down, deep in thought.
"She needs a reason to fly…"
"Like what?"
"Food? Enjoyment? Escape?" he ponders and the last word sends a chill up her back.
"Nothing that makes her uncomfortable," she utters sternly, moving quickly through the trees towards the tower. It is a path that she has just discovered today and as they reach a fork in the road Merlin stops, wavering on his feet.
"Oh…"
"What is it?" she frowns. Merlin stares transfixed down the other path, blinking rapidly.
"I…it's nothing. I just thought I…"
"What?"
"Look at the ground," he instructs and she peers at their feet. The path is set with moss covered pebbles but as she moves a few glint in the sun. As she looks up she sees more flashes along the path.
"Crystal?"
"Looks like it," he whispers but does not move, his gaze troubled. Morgana moves purposely along it, intrigued, Aithusa by her side. A tingle plays over her skin the further she gets, until it feels like the stones under her feet are pulsing. Magic, and very powerful. Fallen trees block the path and she climbs over them with difficulty, pulling up her skirts. But as she reaches the top trunk she pauses, breathless.
Huge shafts of crystal thrust up out of the ground into the sky, forming a circle. In the centre a tin bowl sits atop a stone plinth, water reflecting the blue sky above. Inhaling in wonder she jumps down, leaving Aithusa behind. The crystals are free of ivy, gleaming in the sun as if freshly polished. They seem to hum and as she holds her breath, she hears a soft murmuring.
"Incredible," she whispers, eye fixed on the bowl. As she passes within the stones the murmuring grows louder and she catches fragments of names and conversations, voices from times yet to come or long past. Excitement is a hot boiling commotion in her stomach as she bends over the bowl, the water as still and calm as glass.
"Morgana?" a voice says but it is faint, issued an age ago, another time and place.
She inhales, closes her eyes and pulls in the magic around her. At once, a surge of power crashes through her head, rushing through her body, bending her over. She grabs the edge of the basin until her knuckles go white, trying to keep standing. She forces her eyes open even as pain rips through her head, a terrible sickness coming in waves. Images flash upon the water and each one is a brand on her mind.
An island. A tower. A purple dress. Arthur smiling with tears in his eyes. A murder of crows and a passing shadow. A ribbon laced over hands. Three women in the dark. Dress floating around her ankles. Merlin. A hard kiss, a tipsy happiness bubbling at her core. Laughter. A drowned woman clutching a sword. Merlin on his knees, head bowed. A hooded figure in white. A battle field, a deep red sunset. Mordred. Emrys.
"NO!"
She yells, trying to look away but her hands will not let go, her eyes stuck open. More images flash, coming faster and faster, showing her things that make little sense until they come too fast, the magic so all consuming that her vision goes white. Eyes rolling back she has the impression of someone grabbing her arm before she exhales and darkness covers the white.
"Are you sure she's okay?"
"Yes. She just fainted. It happens to seers, or so I'm told."
"What were you doing there in the first place?"
"Why does that concern you?"
Cold. Has she heard Merlin's voice so cold before or Mordred so strained? Mordred in her arms, the weight of him too heavy, the smell of blood…
"I think I may be sick," she whispers clearly. Instantly Mordred is by her side, turning her over. The nausea passes and she manages to keep her stomach. She looks up at his pale, smiling face and feels her throat tightening.
Do not cry.
"You're awake! You've been asleep for hours."
Morgana sits back in bed, her head thumping. She is in her newly acquired chambers, a room within the tower. It is high, so she has a view of the sky at all times. Merlin stands by the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Seeing him ignites an odd heat inside her chest as a phantom tingle plays over her lips. We kissed. Will kiss…how? Morgana looks down, maintaining an impassive expression. Aithusa sits at the end of the bed and Morgana smiles before looking back at Mordred. It hurts to look at him. This boy dying in her arms is a vision that has plagued her for years.
It will not some to pass, it must not.
"I would like to get changed," she says quietly and Mordred and Merlin straighten.
"If you're feeling up to it come and join us for dinner," Mordred says. He has a house in the city, one that he had grown up in. He had been nervous and pleased to show her. "While you were sleeping you missed the good news. Aglain and his intended are to be married in a week or so and he would like you to come."
Does he indeed, well he's starting to soften it seems. Morgana smiles, saying nothing and Mordred leaves, passing Merlin who begins to follow him out.
"Don't go," she asks. He turns and after a hesitating moment comes to stand at the end of her bed as she sits up against the pillows at her back. "What happened to me?"
"I found you in the circle, looking at the water. You – you were screaming like someone was torturing you," he strokes Aithusa's back as he speaks, eyes averted. "Mordred says that the circle is like the stone circles, it conduits magic, focuses it. He calls it a scrying circle…what did you see?"
Morgana feels a flush of warmth spread over her cheeks and mentally clamps down on the spreading warmth. Control yourself, you're not a child. "I…I don't know how to explain it. I have always been gifted with the sight, since I was a child, before I knew what it was. They come to me in dreams but that…" she shakes her head, inhaling. "I pulled them to me and it was like a dam bursting. It was too much."
"What did you see?" he asks again quietly, looking down at the now sleeping dragon.
"Images, voices...I – I need to write it down, my sister always said that recording things is what makes it prophesy." But she does not move. She may have slept for hours but her bones ache. Merlin finally looks up, eyes fixed to hers.
"Tell me and I'll write them down. Before you forget," he adds with a half-smile and Morgana smirks before it falls. Should she tell him? Certainly not about the kiss but does she trust him enough for this? She wants to now and that is the difference between the person she was two years ago.
"I saw you," she whispers, blinking tiredly. Merlin's smile freezes, eyes never leaving hers. "I saw you on your knees…" maybe he will be in danger?
He is very still for a moment before he breaks into a grin. "Sure that wasn't a vision of the past? Unfortunately my job means I have to scrub the floor every now and again."
"I suppose it does," she yawns, gazing at him with sleepy consideration. Always joking, never taking himself seriously…does he think she does not notice? "Your words are always so offhanded but pointedly so. I think the only thing you've ever said that didn't feel weighed was the story of the feathers in your pocket."
He smiles that half smile again only this time it does not reach his eyes. "Thinking before I speak is part of my role," he shrugs and smiles. "Gwen would say the same."
"Hmm there are some similarities but no, there's something different about you. Are you actually from a noble family? Someone's bastard?" she asks, taking a stab in the dark.
Merlin snorts, shaking his head. "You've met my mother, what do you think?"
"I think you're being obtuse."
"Fine," Merlin says, throwing up his hands. "My father was a lord, you've found me out," he jokes but his smile slowly falls, sadness in his eyes. "He's dead."
"I'm sorry…you have your mother, not many of us are so lucky."
They smile at each other with the same sadness, grieving parents they hardly knew. There is much she does not know about him and she feels surprised at the need to know. She wants to find out what makes Merlin, strange, contradictory Merlin, who he is.
But that will have to wait. Morgana throws the covers back and pins him with a challenging stare.
"As a king's personal assistant I will expect your ability to scribe to be nothing but exemplary," she states haughtily and he scoffs before looking worried.
"This is Arthur you're talking about, he hardly lets me write a shopping list."
"Then I'm sure Mordred will do," she says with a sigh and Merlin, as expected, stiffens. Why he dislikes the boy she can't even imagine, it's utterly baffling but then Merlin's mind works in strange ways. She will have to ask Mordred.
"I'll go get some ink."
"Much appreciated," she smirks and grins as he hurries out of the door to find some ink and parchment. That warmth she had tried to suppress pulses through her, masking the latent fear that the visions have wrought. Kissing Merlin, goddess knows why, is preferable than thinking about people she loves dying but in the end she knows which one she will force herself through hell for to ensure it does not happen.
She will stay in that crystal circle for days if it means she sees a way to save Mordred, no matter what it may do to her. These dark thoughts whirling through her head she lets that fizzle of heat spread through her as Merlin comes back into the room, arms full of parchment and ink. It is a frivolous and inexplicable feeling, she feels embarrassed but as it is likely to burn itself out in time she will enjoy it while it lasts.
"Shall we get started?"
a.n:
Sorry for the wait! The next chapter will be quite shippy...