A/N: Here's part two! As usual, thanks for the reviews. :)
I'm thinking that someone needs to start a Hunith Appreciation Society, or some sort of petition that ensures that she'll come back for season three. Because she's way too awesome to just hang out in Ealdor while Merlin and gang have adventures in Camelot, lol. You can probably tell how awesome I think she is from this chapter!
It's been all too easy to cross my arms and roll my eyes.
The thought of dropping all my arms leaves me terrified.
And now I see the madness in me is brought out in the presence in you.
- "Madness," Alanis Morissette
The dream comes again.
Only this time, there's no warm body to curl into when she wakes, frightened, in the dead of night. There's no one to calm her fears or whisper soothing words. There is only her, and the moonlight, and the terrifying images she cannot shake from her mind.
Morgana likes the ramparts because they offer privacy, because they remind her of stolen moments.
"Milady," Gawain greets as he climbs up the final step and walks over to her. "Is everything all right? Have you eaten dinner yet?"
She turns to look at the knight, takes in his dark hair, his deep hazel eyes, his powerful build. He is a good friend, loyal to a fault, and she, among others, is lucky to have someone like him. But he rarely approaches her alone like this.
"Who put you up to this?" she asks with a slight smirk. "Be truthful. Was it Gwen? Gaius?"
Gawain lets out a laugh and turns his eyes toward the city. "I'm here of my own accord. Excuse me for saying, but you've been so worn out over the past two days. I thought you could use a friendly ear."
She nods, placing her hands on the stone wall, and asks, "What do you know about Seeing?"
Shaking his head sheepishly, he chuckles and replies, "Nothing much. I fight with a sword; you and Merlin are the ones who fight with magic."
"But you believe that if something is foretold, it has to come true?"
"Fate is a tricky mistress," he says grimly. "Sometimes a man is in charge of his own, but sometimes, if he works too hard to change what Fate has allotted him, he risks bringing that very destiny into being."
"Does it always come down to Fate? Can we not choose who we become?"
She's getting in one of her moods now, angry at the world with very little she can do about it. And the knight doesn't quite know what to do. Merlin is always the one to calm her down when she gets like this.
Gawain stands up straight, suddenly the paragon of knightly virtue. "They will return, milady, and triumphant at that. I would stake my life on it."
Morgana tries to ignore the exhaustion in her bones as she and Gwen trudge baskets of fresh linen across the castle, Harry walking behind them with a basket that nearly topples him.
There have been so many who have fallen ill that they've had to expand the infirmary. So many have been from outside of Camelot that they've set up another hall, on the opposite side of the castle, for the families of the sick. Hopefully the distance will decrease the risk of the infection spreading, but providing care for two groups in two different places is proving to be more wearying than anyone had anticipated.
As they round a corner, Morgana catches sight of a familiar face.
"Caleb!"
The shy farmer looks up in surprise before walking across the corridor to meet her. He carries a fussy, three-year-old Seth in his arms, while a six-year-old Nicholas plods along by his feet.
"Milady, My Queen," he greets, inclining his head to each of them in turn.
The women dismiss with the pleasantries as best they can while carrying laundry baskets.
"Caleb, what are you doing here?" Morgana asks.
"It's Alice, milady. Rose, too."
Seth turns out to be much more agreeable when he has some food in his stomach. Both of the boys are settled down on a low cot for a nap while Gwen makes Caleb eat a plate of chicken and beans. He eats reluctantly, too worried about his wife and baby girl to have a head for much else.
"They're getting the best care we can offer," Gwen assures him with a kind smile before walking over to join Morgana.
Sitting on the stone floor by the boys' cot, Morgana feels as if the fatigue is weighing her down. Still, she finds strength to brush Nicholas's hair away from his brow. They're so young, so innocent. They don't deserve to be subjected to such suffering.
Gwen places a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you should eat something, too, Morgana, even get some rest. I don't think you've slept in the past two days."
Offering her friend a grateful smile, Morgana says wearily, "I'm too afraid to sleep."
"The dreams again?" Gwen asks as she sinks down beside her.
Morgana nods.
"You can't keep going like this, you know," Gwen chastises gently. "You're going to work yourself to death, and in the meantime, you're going to drive everyone crazy with worry."
"I'll rest when you rest," Morgana says, a tired spark of playfulness in her voice, because, for all Gwen's censuring, she's just as guilty.
Gwen lets out a weary chuckle and tilts her head to stare at the ceiling. "Fine, then. Have it on your conscience when Merlin kills me for letting you drive yourself to exhaustion."
"Lady Morgana."
Morgana feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her back to consciousness. Lifting her head, she peers blearily up at the figure standing before her.
"Hunith?" she queries groggily.
"Most everyone's asleep, but I can't let you stay like this," Hunith says gently, helping her to her feet.
As she stands, Morgana can see the situation she was in, and she can feel her lower back protesting against what she's just done to it. Sitting on the cold hard floor, she's fallen asleep with her arms on a cot and her head in her arms. There's a little girl in the bed, sleeping peacefully and oblivious to her royal guest. She's no more than four, her golden curls spread out on the pillow like a halo.
"What happened?" she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Hunith places an arm around her waist and leads her out of the infirmary. "You promised me you weren't tired and said you were going to check on Nessa. The next thing I knew, I found you asleep next to her cot," the older woman explains. "I bet you haven't had supper yet either."
Morgana, feeling a strange sort of daughterly comfort in Hunith's presence, shakes her head. She can't even remember the last time she had a proper meal, and not just bread or cheese on the way as she was delivering supplies or news. But Hunith doesn't need to know that much.
"Well," Hunith says as they ascend the stairs to the rooms she and Merlin share, "then I don't think you'll mind that I took the liberty of having some soup sent up to your chambers."
Morgana wants to reply, but she can already smell the soup, and the rumbling of her stomach tells her just how long she's ignored the advice of that particular organ.
When they reach her chambers, Hunith sits her down at the table. Now that food is in front of her, she doesn't need much inducement to eat. She's absolutely ravenous. The soup warms her from the inside, and for a moment, she can pretend there's no darkness in her dreams.
"You can't do this to yourself," Hunith reprimands gently. "I know you worry for him, but it doesn't follow that you must neglect yourself, especially when you've a child on the way." With a smile, she adds, "And since it's my grandchild you're carrying, I think you'll permit me this one motherly moment?"
"Of course," Morgana nods, smiling sleepily as she takes another spoonful of soup. "You are always a great comfort."
"Then perhaps you can confide in me."
Morgana takes a deep breath, staring at her bowl of soup. "It's just, these dreams, awful dreams. I don't even know what they're about, but I know Merlin is in danger. I should have warned him before he left. I don't know why I didn't."
"This isn't your fault. There will be regrets, and there will be times when all you want to do is give up. But you must keep on, for your child, for your husband, for the world you are creating."
Morgana smiles as she finishes the last of her soup, feeling a weight lift from her. She loves Merlin's mother. She can imagine what a task it was to raise a boy like Merlin, and still Hunith is a font of patience and wisdom. Morgana prays to be like her when she becomes a mother, and she's glad that Hunith will be in this child's life.
Hunith places a hand on her shoulder. "You must rest now," she says, pulling her gently to her feet and leading her over to the bed.
She doesn't bother with a nightgown, simply crawls under the sheets in her tunic and trousers. Hunith tucks her in gently and leans down to press a matronly kiss to her forehead. When she turns to leave, Morgana calls her back.
What does she want to say? Merlin and I love you. We're lucky to have you. But instead, she just says, "Thank you," and it's enough.
On the fourth day, things change. In the middle of the day, the patients begin to recover. Even the ones who were near death show significant improvement. Gaius doesn't understand, but by the end of the day, all those who had fallen ill and hadn't yet died have completely and mysteriously recovered.
Morgana would be happier if there weren't a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that there is more to this than meets the eye.
Seven days.
Seven days before Arthur, Merlin, and Balin return; seven days that she agonizes over their safety.
Morgana, Gwen, Hunith, and Gaius rush into the courtyard as soon as they hear the clatter of horse hooves. Arthur's already dismounting from his horse, his mouth set into a grim line. And there's Balin. And even Mercury.
But Merlin . . .
Morgana looks around desperately.
"Morgana," Arthur begins quietly, in that tone he takes on whenever he tries to calm her down, or break bad news.
"Where is he?" she demands.
And that's when she spots the cart that Mercury is pulling. Hurrying over, she pauses, a hand over her heart, when she sees Merlin lying there, blankets pulled over his unconscious body. She's nearly hyperventilating, and there are a thousand thoughts rushing through her mind, but the only one she's listening to is the one telling her to get close to him. He needs her.
Just as she's about to clamber onto the cart, Arthur stops her, hugging her to him.
"Morgana," he murmurs, "calm down. He needs your strength right now."
Morgana watches over his shoulder as Gaius, taking quick stock of the situation, motions Balin and a few of the returned knights over. "Take him up to my study. Gently, now," he orders. The physician turns to the king. "How did this happen, sire?"
Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but Morgana pulls away and beats at his shoulder. "It shouldn't have happened at all. He is your friend, Arthur. You should have been looking after him."
And she storms away, following the knights into the castle, before the stunned Arthur can reply.
They've taken him to his old room, laid him in his old bed, and she's been at his side for hours now. He hasn't stirred, is barely even breathing. He's burning up with fever and yet taken with chills. He doesn't have all the symptoms, or maybe she just can't tell because he's not awake, but she has a sinking suspicion that this is the plague.
Grasping his hand tightly, she says, "I meant what I said before, Merlin. If you don't fight this, I will follow you to hell, to heaven, to purgatory, wherever you are, and I will make you regret this. Do you understand me?"
But he doesn't hear.
Pursing her lips, she dips her head. Maybe this all could have been avoided if only she had warned him.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so, so sorry."
Sometimes she feels like Merlin has everything figured out, and she's still muddling her way through. It should be her in this bed, should be him trying to find a solution to this.
Gaius hurries into the room, interrupting her morbid thoughts.
He gestures with the book in his hands and says, "I may have found a way to help him."
Morgana rises quickly. "What? What is it?"
But Gaius has already anticipated her reaction. Frowning, he holds a hand up and explains, "This is dangerous magic, Morgana. We need someone who can do magic –"
"Well, let me do it, then."
"But the healer must take the victim's pain upon him or herself." The physician shakes his head. "In good conscience, I cannot let you do that. Not when you are with child, not when I promised Merlin I'd look after you."
"Does everyone around here follow his orders?" she rages unfairly. "Or only when it comes to me?"
With that, she storms from the room, leaving a shocked Gaius standing there speechlessly.
"Tell me how this happened."
"Morgana, it's hard to –"
"What happened?"
Arthur frowns regretfully. "Honestly, I don't know," he pleads. "One minute we were fighting this sorcerer, the next minute the sorcerer was dead and Merlin had come down with plague. Morgana, I swear to you, we got him back here as soon as we could."
Morgana backs away and sinks against the wall, feeling herself suddenly supported by Gwen. What if it wasn't soon enough?
"Arthur, Morgana," the Queen says softly, "this fighting is not going to solve anything." She pulls Morgana's head against her shoulder. "Mordred will come through for us, for Merlin. I know he will."
"He doesn't like Merlin," Morgana tells them, though it's not a secret.
Arthur sighs. "If he didn't want to try to heal him, he would have flat-out refused, not pretended to try. We must keep faith."
Morgana looks up expectantly as the door opens and Hunith, Gaius, and Mordred file out. Mordred looks exhausted, with bags under his eyes and his shoulders in a slump. He looks like he's seen death. Gaius, though, has a hopeful smile on his kindly face.
"He has come through," Gaius announces. Clapping Mordred on the shoulder, he adds, "Thanks to this young fellow."
A wave of relief washes over Morgana, and she pulls Mordred into a fierce embrace. "Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you."
Hunith touches her shoulder. "He's asking for you."
Nodding, she takes a deep breath and makes her way into the study. She stops just inside the door of his old room. He's awake and sitting up, and the sight fills her with such relief that her heart nearly stops.
"You can come in, you know," he smiles.
She sits on the side of the bed and crosses her arms. "You know," she begins, "if you hadn't just saved the kingdom, I would smack you right now."
Merlin lets out a tired chuckle. Taking her hand lazily, he pulls her forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips. "Can you at least wait until I've regained my strength?" he asks sleepily as he sits back against the pillows.
"Maybe if you weren't always such a hero," she chastises gently, "you wouldn't have gotten yourself into this mess."
He smiles, seeing straight through her anger, pulls her beside him, and rests his head against her shoulder. "Lucky I always have you to drag me out then."
"Don't think you can sweet talk your way out of this, Merlin. You frightened me half-to-death."
"But I mean it," he insists. "Arthur is my king, but when he's threatened, when this kingdom is threatened, there's no one I'd rather have by my side than you."
"Then you won't leave me behind next time? Because I will refuse to stay."
He lets out a soft chuckle. "We both know you never do anything you don't want to do. I was amazed Arthur was able to stop you from coming with us to Cantia."
"He was so adamant, I thought it was for the best." With an almost petulant frown, she adds, "But he doesn't own me. He couldn't stop me from helping Gaius and Mordred."
"Mordred . . ." Merlin mumbles, "I suppose I owe him my life."
Morgana takes a deep breath and reaches up to curl her fingers into his hair. "He didn't have to help you."
"I think he did it for you."
"Maybe . . ."
"Still," he breathes, "I promised you that we'd figure this out when I got back, so if you still want me to, I'll talk to Arthur about taking him on as an apprentice."
Morgana sighs, relief flooding her veins. Perhaps, with Merlin's influence, Mordred won't become what they so fear. She kisses the crown of his head. "Thank you, Merlin."
Worn out, he closes his eyes, and she's content to leave it at that.
Sliding a hand to her stomach, he softly asks, "And how's our baby girl?"
"Our child," she replies with a smile, "is fine. But I've come to a conclusion recently."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"If we do have a girl, we're naming her after your mother."
