Chapter 53: Truth Behind Denial

"Is that him?" Gwen murmured as she joined Morgana at the chamber window.

"Yes."

The man known as the Witchfinder stood like a sentinel in the deserted street, a stately, black clad figure with a proud tilt to his head and a hard, uncompromising expression on his weathered face. Gwen felt a chill in the pit of her stomach as she looked beyond him to the sinister wagon that had marked his arrival in Camelot.

"What's that cage for?"

Morgana was trembling beside her and indeed, it felt as if the temperature of the warm summer night had plummeted in the very same moment the man had set foot into the peaceful city.

"It hardly bears thinking about," she whispered fearfully.

Gwen bit her lip as they watched the Witchfinder ascend the palace steps and disappear. And then she turned away, determined to suppress a heavy sense of foreboding by focusing on some menial chore instead. It was useless; everywhere she looked, the chamber was spotless.

"My lady, is there anything else I can do for you tonight?"

Morgana hadn't moved from her place at the window. "When will it end?" she muttered to herself. "How many more lives must be destroyed before his hatred is satisfied?"

"I don't know," Gwen responded sadly, as unbidden, an image of her father's gentle smile flashed before her eyes. "But I wish..."

"Will you stay with me tonight, Gwen?" Morgana interrupted in a tremulous voice. "I'd rather not be alone right now."

Gwen offered her what she hoped was a comforting smile. "Of course I will."


Morgana awoke with a scream, jarring Gwen from her own uneasy slumber with her cries of distress. Gwen was at her side in a flash, whispering a flurry of soothing words as the terrified woman fell into her arms and sobbed against her shoulder.

"I don't want Gaius to die," she pleaded in a muffled, broken voice. "Please... he's just an old man. Please don't do this."

"Shhh," Gwen murmured softly. "It was only a dream, Morgana. Here, let me retrieve your potion for you, and..."

She started to rise, only to be held fast when Morgana's arms wrapped even more tightly around her neck. "I know you're frightened, but maybe it will help. Let me..."

"It never helps," Morgana spat angrily, her tear filled eyes suddenly blazing with fury as she jerked away from Gwen's embrace. "The more I take, the more these visions haunt me!"

Fear pricked at the edges of Gwen's consciousness. Visions? No, visions were the product of sorcery according to Uther, and even the slightest possibility of Morgana being connected with magic was enough to make her cringe in terror. No, these could be nothing more than dreams; she was unwilling to imagine the repercussions her friend would face if they turned out to be anything else.

"It was only a nightmare," she repeated firmly, unsure whether it was Morgana or herself who was more in need of reassurance as she hurried back to the bed with a small vial clutched in her hand. "It's not real."

Morgana opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, her momentary flash of anger suddenly replaced by a watery, self-conscious smile. Without another word, she reached for the potion and lifted it to her lips, meekly swallowing the contents before she lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes once more.


The streets of Camelot bustled with activity during the days that followed, citizens going about their normal routines as if nothing were amiss. It was only upon closer inspection that the strain was evident; servants, craftsman, and merchants alike scurried about nervously, the fear that flickered behind their eyes speaking of a truth they couldn't voice aloud.

Gwen understood their quiet sense of dread at a level that was only possible for someone who had been a longtime resident of the city. This was far from the first time Uther had overreacted to the suggestion of sorcery, whether that threat was real or only imagined. And as she passed one familiar face after another, she was hard put to find even one who hadn't personally suffered from the king's tyrannical war on magic.

How many of the citizens who'd already lost their lives had truly been guilty? She couldn't say, but it was difficult to believe that the cobbler's former apprentice, a gangly youth with a a friendly grin and a sweet, unassuming nature, had been a sorcerer with a plan to break into the palace treasury. He'd been one of the lucky ones; his cell had been empty on the morning of his execution, and despite an exhaustive search, he'd never been seen again.

Others had not been so fortunate, however. Gwen's heart ached with sympathy as she passed the fruit peddler who always set up his wares just a few dozen paces away from the palace, still remembering him as a joyful man who'd been forever armed with a smile and a fresh slice of whatever fruit he had in excess that day for the local children who visited his cart.

The poor merchant never smiled anymore, not since his daughter had been accused of selling an enchanted apple to one of the guards the year before and had lost her head at Uther's behest.

"Which of us will be next?" That was the question she read in one pair of eyes after another, knowing it was mirrored in her own as she reached the palace and hurriedly ascended the steps. It wouldn't matter if there was no real culprit to be found; Uther would demand a blood price in exchange for the merest suggestion that someone had dared to use magic in his precious kingdom, and solid evidence would cease to matter if he had to wait for the vengeance he craved.

"Guinevere..."

Distracted by her troubled thoughts, she hadn't noticed Arthur until he was standing right in front of her, looking slightly uncomfortable as he always did whenever she was in his presence these days.

"Sire," she responded, as she dropped into a brief, yet respectful curtsy.

Arthur looked pained. "Guinevere, you know that's not necessary."

"Isn't it?" she questioned with a slight edge of sarcasm to her voice. "You've made it quite clear that..."

Gwen was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a throat being softly cleared at her back. "Sire," Sir Leon said apologetically, glancing briefly in her direction before focusing his full attention on Arthur. "Forgive the interruption, but the king requires your presence in the Council Chamber. Aredian is ready to present his findings."

"Of course," Arthur replied shortly, then turned and followed the knight without so much as a word of farewell.

Typical, she grumbled to herself as she continued along her way to Morgana's chamber. Why should I be surprised? He's always been an arrogant...

But Gwen never finished the thought as she reached her destination to discover a white faced Morgana, frantically wringing her hands as she paced back and forth across the room. Seemingly devoid of her usual grace, she bumped into her dressing table, barely reacting when a small bottle of perfume toppled over and fell to the floor with a crash.

"There you are!" she said a little breathlessly, reaching out to clutch Gwen's arm. Her hands were clammy, noticeably trembling in the few seconds before she remembered herself and let go. "Where have you been?"

Gwen stared at her, both in confusion and increasing worry. "My lady, you sent me to the lower town to see if there was any suitable fabric for a new gown. There wasn't, but the merchant said..."

"Of course," Morgana interrupted with a mirthless laugh. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"Morgana, is something wrong?"

"We're late, that's all," she replied stiffly. "I'm expected in the Council Chamber, so we best be on our way."

Morgana was curiously silent as they made their way through the corridors and into the crowded hall. Gwen wanted to believe it was merely anxiety over being late that had her behaving so strangely, but it became impossible to continue to think that when Uther waved away her apologies, treating her to a warm smile as she took her seat beside him.

Gwen watched her closely as the Witchfinder presented his witnesses, three peasant women who babbled about ghosts and goblins… and frogs, of all things. Morgana never seemed to relax; on the contrary, her face became more and more pale as she watched the proceedings with fear in her eyes.

Why? Was it nothing more than her usual distaste for the king's harsh policies regarding magic? Morgana had a compassionate soul and a strong sense of justice; she'd never reacted well to such things. But in the past, she'd always looked angry in such moments, never terrified, as if she herself was being accused.

No, Gwen had to be imagining things. Morgana, of all people? She was the king's ward, the last person who would take the enormous risk of meddling with magic.

"My methods are infallible, my findings incontestable!" Aredian pronounced in a dramatic voice, clearly relishing his moment of triumph as the audience collectively held its breath. "The facts point to one person and one person alone... the boy, Merlin!"

There was a heavy pause before Arthur spoke. "Merlin?" he said in a skeptical voice that seemed to echo Gwen's own thoughts on the matter. "You can't be serious."

But it became abundantly clear this was no jest, as Merlin was restrained by the guards and Uther ordered a full search of his chambers. When the king called for dismissal immediately thereafter, Gwen trailed after Morgana in bewilderment, trying in vain to ignore the loud crashing sounds that echoed through the corridor as the physician's quarters were ripped apart.

"Merlin?" she questioned helplessly once they'd reached the safety of Morgana's rooms. "Clearly, the man is a phony. Who could possibly believe that Merlin..." and then she trailed off, as she looked into Morgana's face. Gone was the unnatural paleness she'd witnessed earlier, replaced by an expression that seemed almost... relieved.

No, she had to be mistaken. Morgana must only appear to have relaxed because she knew very well that no evidence would be found and that Merlin would be acquitted. Yes, that had to be it.

But then again, the king had executed people suspected of using magic based on far less than the word of a Witchfinder he obviously held in the highest esteem. Merlin could be in grave danger; would it be enough that Gaius and Arthur would surely vouch for his innocence?

Gwen wanted to discuss her concerns with Morgana, and hopefully receive some reassurance that there was nothing to worry about, but she was never given the chance. Throughout the remainder of the afternoon and well into the evening, she was sent on one errand after another, and in the end, she discovered that it was unnecessary to be concerned about Merlin's fate after all when she met him in the corridor. He looked a bit shaken, but obviously, the charges that had been leveled against him had come to nothing.

"Merlin!" she called out happily. "I knew they wouldn't find..."

"They've got Gaius," he interrupted in a shaky voice. "He's been taken to the dungeons for interrogation."

"Gaius?" she echoed vaguely. "But what evidence could they possibly have against him? He's done nothing wrong; you know that as well as I do. Try not to worry, Merlin. I'm sure he'll be released and back in his own chambers before you know it. Uther wouldn't... no, it's absurd."

"Gwen, you don't understand."

She gave him a comforting smile. "I do understand how much you care for him. We all do. I know it's frightening, but Gaius has served Uther for most of his life. Surely even the king will see the ridiculousness of these accusations."

"I hope you're right," Merlin said, suddenly looking beyond her as if there was somewhere else he desperately wanted to be. She bid him a hasty farewell, turning to watch curiously as he raced around the corner and disappeared.

It was only when she was walking home later that evening that an echo of Morgana's frantic words in the immediate wake of her nightmare flitted across her mind.

"I don't want Gaius to die. Please, he's just an old man."

No, it didn't mean... it couldn't mean...

Throughout the following day, she resisted the urge to ask Morgana about the details of her dream once, twice, a dozen times. Over and over, she told herself she was just being silly; it was natural to worry over a person you cared for that was old and frail. She herself had often felt a great deal of concern when it seemed like Gaius was overworking himself or not getting the rest he needed.

Yes, it was only a coincidence, nothing more, and she was quite certain she could go on believing that as long as she didn't voice the question aloud.

Nonetheless, it became more and more difficult to ignore her fears when Gaius remained in the dungeons below, and Merlin wandered around with an increasingly frantic expression on his face. "Difficult" became downright impossible when the elderly physician finally prostrated himself before the king, confessing that he was indeed a sorcerer.

Gwen didn't believe it for a second. One look at Gaius told her that all the hushed whispers she'd heard among the palace staff were true; he'd clearly been subjected to torture, and the ordeal had obviously broken him to the point where he'd rather face the consequences than continue to protest his innocence.

But to her, it wasn't a question of guilt. It was the unmistakable connection between Morgana's dream and the increasing likelihood that it was about to come true. If it did, she'd be forced to face the reality of losing not just one, but two people she cared for deeply. If Morgana's nightmares were indeed the product of foresight, after all, a gift that was intimately connected with the world of magic, how long could she possibly have before Uther discovered the truth and condemned her as a witch? He'd coldly ordered the execution of his oldest and dearest friend… could Morgana truly expect mercy at his hand?

Her fears increased as Aredian summoned the other woman down to the dungeons for questioning again, leaving her pale and shaken upon her return to her chambers.

"I don't know how much more I can take," she whispered in a muffled voice, as she sank down onto the bed and buried her face in her hands. "He's going to discover the truth anyway. I know he is. Maybe I should just tell him now and save myself the trouble."

Gwen sat down beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Surely you've already told him you're innocent, Morgana. That's the only truth that matters. Uther will never convict you without evidence that doesn't exist. Not you, Morgana. He cares for you too much."

Morgana let out a surprisingly bitter laugh. "Truth? You don't know the truth, Gwen. No one does... but they will. And when they do, I'll be the next to meet my death upon that pyre."

"No," Gwen said harshly, unwilling to accept the idea that Morgana could be guilty of any crime that was worthy of execution. "You're reacting to the strain, that's all. This is what he wants. Can't you see that? Do you honestly think Gaius is a sorcerer? Of course not! Aredian broke him down to the point where he was willing to say anything to make it stop, and now he's trying to do the same to you. Morgana, don't let him..."

She trailed off as the other woman released a loud, shuddering breath.

"Gwen, I have magic. Stop pretending you haven't suspected it for quite some time."