I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Over a month is just unacceptable! Unfortunately, this horrid thing called reality kept interfering with my writing.

A few notes about this chapter. I have included the Disir from Series 5 of Merlin, but for those who have not seen this episode yet, I have not included any Series 5 spoilers at all, so you can read it still. Also, I have included mention of the Crone, the Mother and the Maiden. These are not taken from any other work, they are in fact the three deities of the Triple Goddess. That is all. Enjoy! :)

Chapter 13

The remnants of nature's midnight war lay outside. The moon hung low in the dawning sky, fighting to continue its dominant reign, pale as the skin of the woman's skin beneath her, Morgause felt herself realise, in the slow mind process of an early awakening. Meanwhile, just over the tops of the trees, ghostly green in the slight fog that hung over the World, there were just a few rays of golden light breaking through. Golden like the curls that had spread across her sister's bare breasts as Morgause rested her head there gently. Although she couldn't see them, she knew there would be a few scarlet buds just fighting through the swirling white of the morning, like pools of blood on a battlefield. Or the ruby droplets of wine that had spilled onto the girl's gown the night before, as she had gotten so passionate in her declarations of war against her old home, her old friends, her old family. And then she had removed her gown, shedding it as a caterpillar sheds its cocoon to reveal the new being beneath. And then Morgause was back to seeing her sister's milky skin, rivalling the glow of the lunar orb itself.

Gently, to not wake the sleeping girl upon whose chest she was rested, she raised herself to rest upon her elbows instead, allowing her to look down on the Lady Morgana. Her raven hair seemed to spill everywhere in her slumber, tumbling down her neck whilst also spreading out like a growing river of ink on the bed. One slender arm lay stretched over her head, the other by her side, where it had been rested on the small of Morgause's back. She was pleased to note the glittering bracelet that sat on her wrist, protecting Morgana from all demons that could haunt her. All the ones that Morgause could not protect her from, anyway.

She could understand the ways of the High Priestesses more now she knew this. Now she slept with her fingers entwined with Morgana's. Waking in the early hours, just to lie and listen to her breathing as she dreamt. Now she had felt the real, fiery passion that would consume them both until they lay breathless, yet also now she had rid herself of the lonely need to escape, to ride the country like some fearless martyr. Now, she understood there was more than one way to give yourself to your cause. And she had found the true way, the way that gave her heart, body and soul. Yet, there was still something missing.

Morgana awoke to a cold breeze against her naked form, causing her to shiver despite the bedcovers that had been pulled over her. It was curious, for usually she would have Morgause's warmth beside her…

She sat up straight on the realisation she was alone, her mind instantly flashing through the scenarios they had talked through: attack, discovery, even raiders were not an impossible option, despite the enchantments surrounding the castle. But, she felt her pounding heart slow as her eyes found her sister's figure stood by the open window, staring out over the land beneath them. Her skin was still bare, yet she was not shivering like Morgana was in the bed. Instead, she was hardly moving, just the slight rise and fall of her chest with her careful breaths.

'Morgause…'

'Can you not feel it, Morgana? Even smell it in the very air?' The blonde did not turn around; she continued to stare out of the open window, yet Morgana could imagine the smile on her face as she spoke. Even if she couldn't decide quite why her sister was so excited.

'I don't understand.'

'The Old Religion, my Sister, can you not smell it in the air? Feel it on every inch of your skin? Taste it?' She turned now, almost running to Morgana's side, taking both of her hands as she sat next to her on the edge of the bed. 'It lives in the very essence of the Earth, brought in by the wind and the rain. This is why Uther will never truly destroy us; destroy all sorcerers, for we share our blood with the Earth itself.' She paused, waiting for Morgana's response, yet her lips remained together, a blind gloss in her eyes. 'It tastes of my childhood, of the Isle of the Blessed, where the air was perfumed with the scent of magic. It is the aroma of the High Priestesses, of the sorcery that runs in our beings.'

The brunette continued to sit in silence, yet her lips curled into a smile as her eyes slipped shut, feeling the air in her body in a way she had not done before. 'I can taste it, Morgause.'

'It is how Camelot will taste again once we have taken it. Once we have fulfilled your Destiny, my Sister. Once we have ridded it of the pestilence that is the Pendragon dynasty, and recreated the Kingdom under the Old Religion, just as it ought to be.' She took one of Morgana's dark curls, wrapping it slowly around her fingers. 'Today is the day, Morgana. Today must be the day.'

At that, Morgana's eyes seemed to almost snap open, her peridot orbs wide in what could have been fear. Morgause was hoping otherwise until her sister's lips began to move. 'I cannot do it, Morgause. I am not strong enough. I'm not ready.'

'You must have faith, my Sister. This is your Destiny…'

'It cannot be, I don't understand.' She'd pulled back, and the lock of hair felt torn away from Morgause's grasp. With her hand still outstretched, and chestnut eyes dark, she took the Ward back to their first meeting, when the healing bracelet was all that they had shared. Not that she wanted to return to that, Morgana could not truly imagine life back in Camelot again, surrounded by so may yet so alone in herself. But, she was not ready for what Morgause asked of her. Not yet. 'When in Camelot, I witnessed the burnings of hundreds, or thousands of those with magic, Morgause. I just sat in my chambers, or even stood beside Uther when I was younger, and watched as he put those people to the flames. Innocent people were killed and I did nothing, Morgause. I watched them. I could smell their skin charring and I could hear them screaming, and still I did nothing. How can I possible be destined to help all those with magic and return the Old Religion to Camelot, if I could not even help those few people?'

'My Sister, you cannot blame yourself for that, for any of that.' The blonde pulled the other woman towards her, holding her close against her, only the bedcovers separating both their naked forms meeting. 'All that was Uther's doing, Morgana, not yours. What could you have done, without putting yourself in danger? None of that has any impact on your destined path, you are still to reignite the Old Religion in Camelot, to provide safety to those like us, so no-one else has to live in fear as you did. It is you, and only you, who can do this. You mustn't underestimate your importance in this.'

'I am not yet strong enough. You are always strong; there is nothing you cannot do…'

'It is you that gives me strength, Sister. And I hope I can do the same for you, for today and all that will follow. For after today, there is no going back. You will be a true High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, and under the full protection of both the Blood Guard and the Old Religion. You are ready, I know it.'

Morgana felt her sister press her lips to her cheek, the touch enough for her to forget the cold from outside, and the cold fear gripping her heart for a few seconds. Long enough for her to whisper, 'I'm ready, Morgause.'

The day had not cleared, and a light drizzle fell, causing the emerald leaves on the trees to glisten with light moisture. Morgana could feel the damp beginning to seep through the shimmering cloak that Morgause had given her for warmth, silver as the chainmail her sister had donned for the journey. She walked ahead, her glittering blade in hand, yet the blade touched not one plant, not even the thorns that threatened to rip into her dark breeches or shred Morgana's gown. For even Morgana could sense this was a sacred place, a place for worship, not warfare, for blessings, not bloodshed. The whole forest seemed so much more alive, as though she could feel the very trees growing around her. She felt that if she put her hand to the ground, she would feel it throbbing with life. It was strange, like having consumed one cup too many of the sweetest wine, but rather than dulling her senses, it had sharpened them beyond belief.

Then the trees were thinning, and Morgause stopped in a small clearing. Directly ahead of her, a gaping cave entrance lay, darker than Morgana had ever seen, she thought. But not cold, as usual caves tended to be, but as though she needed to enter, not through curiosity, but through a deep instinct within her heart.

'We are here, Morgana,' Morgause spoke, as she placed her blade upon a large stone just outside the cave's entrance. Following this, she began to remove her chainmail, until she stood only in her thin undershirt and breeches. At the sudden confusion upon her sister's pale face, she explained, 'This is a sacred place, Morgana. To take a weapon within would be sacrilege, especially following the Great Purge.'

The raven headed girl nodded, before unsheathing a plain dagger from her belt, hidden under the dampened cloak, and laid it beside Morgause's weapons. At the slight amusement upon the blonde's face, she frowned playfully. 'Surely, you did not expect me to come here defenceless?'

'Camelot will never suspect you, my Sister. And you will be more than ready for them all.'

Her sister was braver than she had ever hoped for. Morgause watched with pride as she entered the cave ahead of her, waking blind in the dark, yet never losing where she was going. That was part of the initiation, though she had not discovered that until after she had become a High Priestess herself. Only those with the burning desire, the burning need, to find the Old Religion, could ever enter and leave the cave. All others would be consumed by the dark, which was why no Knight of Camelot had ever risked destroying this place. Either that or it was unknown to them. The blonde was lost in her own thought, when her sister's sudden frozen form brought her back.

The cave had lightened now, illuminated by candles above them on a raised platform. Yet, before these candles, three figures stood. Three hooded figures, their cloaks long enough to both cover them completely, hiding any detail from the two women, and brush the floor.

'The Lady Morgana,' the first spoke, raising its head to reveal an old, female jaw, wrinkles having formed around the mouth. 'Ward of Uther Pendragon, beloved King of Camelot.'

'More than his Ward.' The second followed the first's example, raising her head to reveal a younger jaw, yet the hood still covered the top half of the face, hiding the eyes from any onlookers. 'But that is for another time, I believe.'

'And her sister, Morgause, daughter of Lady Vivian Gorlois, once consort of King Cenred, now her sister's companion.' The last to speak, the figure stood in the middle, was the youngest, barely older than the women to whom she spoke, going from the lilting tones of her voice. 'The last High Priestess of the Triple Goddess. Though that will all change today.'

Morgana stood silent, yet she held her head defiantly, staring directly at the three women ahead of her. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and felt herself speak, 'The Maiden, the Mother and the Crone, the three deities of the Triple Goddess.'

'She is well taught, Morgause.' The first directed her attention towards the Priestess now. 'She knows the teachings, and the sorcery itself also, no doubt. We are impressed.'

'We are the Disir, my child.' The second remained focused on Morgana, who stood pale as the moon that had hung in the sky that morning. 'It is we who decide those whose blood is sacred enough to join the realm of the High Priestesses, and become the soldiers of the Triple Goddess.'

'Though, you need not worry, child, we know your Destiny.'

'Who of the Old Religion does not know your Destiny, Lady Morgana?' The eldest figure spoke, her voice creaking like an ancient, oak door. 'All those with sorcery engrained in their being place their hopes within your Destiny.' Her voice was joined by the two other women's, their united speech filling the cavern with sinister harmony. 'To bring down the evil of Uther Pendragon, and cast the Old Religion back into the heart of Albion. That is your Destiny, Lady Morgana.'

Morgause stood back still, her focus darting between the deities and her sister. She did not remember her own initiation into the Triple Goddess, though at the time she had expected the experience to be engraved into her memory forever. Though maybe it was the fire, or maybe it was the death of Taegan, that had caused her memory to close, and to attempt to block all from her of the Isle of the Blessed. She did remember standing tall though, her face blank as she had faced the figures before her. Though, she had never stood as proud as Morgana did before her. She had never expected her sister to fall, for only a coward would see the deities as objects of fear, but she could never have predicted her sister's strength. She was ready, she was more than ready, yet Morgause had been clinging to her, it seemed. Denying Morgana's ability so they need not be separated. But, as the raven headed woman stood before her, her peridot eyes aimed directly at the figures before her, the figures who would cast the die, and ensure Camelot's fate in Morgana's initiation, the blonde Priestess felt a growing realisation of all that was yet to come. Of all that was needed to put their plan into perfect form.

'Morgause, Daughter of Vivian and the last High Priestess, do not think you are forgotten in this.' Morgause looked up, her concentration having slipped in though, to see the cavern empty before her, save for one of the deities, the Crone, the other two having taken Morgana further into the sacred place. The Crone's hood remained up, revealing only her jaw, with her lips curled into a devilish grin, revealing teeth almost pointed beneath her lips. 'We know all, Morgause, all about you. The burning of the Isle of the Blessed, the years you spent idle in Cenred's Kingdom, awaiting the news of your Sister in Camelot. The chanting of the Knights of Medhir, Morgana's rescue at the hand of a golden haired Knight, and indeed you trained her well. For you also have a Destiny, Morgause. A great Destiny that haunts Camelot like a plague. Stalking men's minds like a spectrum.'

'I need to know what it is.'

The Crone smiled once more. 'No, you do not. But soon, soon you shall achieve all you have wished for. I can assure you that.'

That night she sat in her chambers, the first night she had spent separate to her sister in months. But, her sister still remained weak from her initiation; she muttered the Old Religion under her breath and tossed feverishly under the bedcovers, though her skin was bare. She had been barely conscious after the initiation, just awake enough to be aware of her sister's arms around her, carrying her as she had done all those months ago. Though, then, she had been rescuing her from the persecution that awaited her, now her arms were a true welcome into the World of sorcery and enchantment.

She was no longer the last High Priestess. It was a thought that made Morgause's heart want to burst from her chest with joy, like a butterfly from a cocoon in the gentle Spring. They were truly together now, joined together by blood and body, and now by belief also. It was a feeling so strong it felt lie armour enough for her to charge into Camelot that very night, and take the throne from Uther's head herself.

But, no. It was a valiant thought, an idle dream. But, the throne of Camelot needed careful planning and stealth to be truly taken. That, and more brute force than she solely could muster. The blonde sighed, nearly sinking her head into her hands in despair, before she reminded herself she was a High Priestess, and had no time for self-pity. Not now she had Morgana's Destiny resting in her palms. And she knew this day would come again. He owed her a debt. Blood for blood. That thought caused a smirk to creep across her lips as she took her quill in hand. Sinking the end deep into the ink, dark as the onyx eyes she remembered boring into her, she paused momentarily over the parchment, before writing:

My Dear Cenred…

Guest: Thank you. I have tried focus primarily on Morgana and Morgause due to the lack of material about them, mainly in the year they spent together, which I see as significant in Morgana's change of feeling towards Camelot.

Sergeik: Morgana and Morgause are my ultimate favourite Merlin pairing so it's really good to hear I've done them justice. I agree with you so much about Morgause in Series 2, I felt she was set up to be this evil character when she did very little to hurt others, especially in the Sins of the Father, when she only did what was asked of her by Arthur. Thank you :)

Livingarandomreality: Thank you so much :) Morgause was one of my favourite characters and although I think it might not have fit the series entirely to include her backstory in the TV show, I was disappointed by the lack of fanfics about her. So, I wrote this to try change that. Hope this chapter lives up to expectation, it has taken a while to write.