Alaia Skyhawk: And here is part three :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
Music:
~(-)~
Chapter 46: Condemnation of the Witch ~Part 3~
It wasn't the light of the rising sun that woke her, but rather the magic of the Isle shivering in anticipation.
Morgana opened her eyes, still reddened by her tears from the night before, and slowly got to her feet. Up here the wind whipped at her hair once she left the sheltered lea of the perimeter wall, where it then flowed over the Isle towards the grassy courtyard at the far end.
She walked to the edge of the tower, to where the golden light of dawn had just begun to penetrate the shadows around the High Altar. The ritual that had been set in motion last night, would now reach its conclusion when the sun's rays at last reached and touched the altar and the figure who lay upon it.
Morgana tightened her grip on the wall's edge, trying not to shake. As part of her studies to become a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, Morgause had taught her about this ritual. If the Disir were to be considered the direct interpretors of the Goddess, then the Priestess of the Isle was the counterbalance to that. The one who interpreted the will of the Old Magic directly, and who would intervene if she believed the Disir had made a mistake. Of course, that had never happened in all of the Goddess' history, but the symbolism of the position was what had counted.
And with the Goddess now gone, it was symbolic no more... Merlin had been chosen to interpret the Old Magic's will, and so until his death he would now be the highest authority in the Old Religion. He would be the Lord of all Magic.
Morgana clenched her teeth in bitterness and bowed her head, aware that no power she possessed could stop the ritual taking place below. There were close to a hundred sorcerers, and many of them she knew were High Priests and Priestesses of various regions and Orders. To attempt to interfere would be suicide, for none of them would even acknowledge her right now, and she knew they wouldn't hesitate to strike her down. She was tainted in their eyes, a betrayer of the Old Religion.
"Lonely, are you? Pining away in your regret."
Morgana turnned sharply at that voice, and saw the faded figure of a woman in a tattered red dress. There was no doubt that the woman was a spirit, someone who is dead and yet had come back to this place from the realm beyond.
"Who are you?"
The woman smiled haughtily.
"I am Nimueh, the previous High Priestess of the Isle of the Blessed. As it was for my predecessors, the Old Magic permits me to be present at the appointment of whomever succeeds me."
Morgana frowned.
"If you're allowed out of the Spirit Realm to witness the ceremony, then why are you up here?"
Nimueh walked to the edge of the tower, to gaze at the High Altar and the sun that crept slowly across the grass towards it.
"There is no place for me down there, and I doubt I would be welcome. When last we met, Merlin and I did not have a happy encounter."
Morgana glanced towards where Merlin lay, and then back at the spirit.
"What happened?"
Nimueh sighed, her answer blunt.
"I killed Gaius to pay for Arthur's life to be saved from the bite of the Questing Beast. Merlin then killed me, and mirrored my life to pay for bringing Gaius back from the dead."
Morgana stared at her in shock.
"He killed you?"
Nimueh regarded her, with the amusement for past events that only the dead could display, even when that event was their own death.
"I thought to play with fate and destiy, twist it and him to my own ends, and paid the price. Such is the way of balance. Such is the will of the Old Magic. Had I lived beyond that day, then it is likely that I would have received a Rune Mark just as you did, although for a far lesser crime, and I would have repented for my mistake. The Old Magic has worked hard for this day, and it would not have permitted me to prevent it."
Morgana looks down at the ceremony again, frowning.
"I still don't understand, though... Why did they choose Merlin to be the priest? Why not Emrys? He is the one who is meant to be their leader."
Nimueh eyed Morgana for several moment, and then smiled knowingly.
"Because Emrys knows that the best way to ensure his teachings are passed on for many years, is to entrust that future to the next generation... That day that Merlin slew me, was the day that he accepted Emrys as his teacher. He has learnt much from him since then."
Morgana clenched her fists.
"So Merlin really is his student. I suspected he was Emrys' lapdog, but never knew for certain. He only ever implied it."
Nimueh laughed at her assumptions.
"Merlin is no lapdog." She moved in close to Morgana, their faces inches apart. "You must think of him and Emrys as one force, one concerted barrier between you and what you desire. What Merlin knows, Emrys knows. But understand this. Emrys is the mightiest sorcerer who will ever live, you will never come close to his power, and yet in nine years Merlin has come near to matching him. They are both beyond your reach."
Morgana backed up, to get away from the chill that seemed to eminate from around Nimueh.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Nimueh smirked.
"I tell you so that you know just how hopeless your efforts to take Camelot are." She paced around Morgana. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not here to help or comfort you. As much as I hold anger towards Merlin for killing me, it pales in comparrison to the fury I feel towards you."
Morgana stared, now in outrage.
"Why are you angry at me? I've never even met you before!"
Nimueh stopped, and her stare was like ice above her snarl of anger.
"You killed the Triple Goddess! You couldn't have done it more surely than if you'd used a knife on the Disir yourself!" Her voice dropped back to a whisper, one full of pain and anguish. "My powers and position as High Priestess of this Isle, granted me a very long life. For over a century I served the Goddess, dedicated my entire life to her, and then you cause her to be destroyed after just a handful of years as her acolyte!"
"I..."
Nimueh pointed at Morgana, condemnation in every word.
"Know this, Morgana Pendragon. It is not your destiny to rule Camelot, and it never will be. Your destiny is to be the darkness to Emrys' light, the hatred to his love, the despair to his hope. Only when you accept that Camelot will never be yours, will you escape the prison of your fate. Until then, I hope you rot in despair, as you are shut out and shunned by those you have betrayed." She raised her chin, proud and defiant. "The Age of the Triple Goddess has ended. Long may the Age of Emrys endure!"
Nimueh vanished in a blast of wind that forced Morgana to sheild her face, and when she was gone, the magic of the Isle shuddered and then rose up reverberating in triumph.
Morgana spun round to look at the High Altar, where the light of the sun now shone upon Merlin like a benediction. And then she watched as the gathered mass of Emrys' followers gathered around him as he sat up and stepped off the altar... As the last High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, she should and would have been the one down there one day. But now the Goddess was gone, and Emrys had taken her place, just as Merlin had taken the place that she, Morgana, should have had. She who was now being condemned by the living and even by the dead.
Morgana stormed down the tower, engulfed by fury, and her eyes held a light of utter insanity. She wanted revenge, and knew that while she couldn't get it here, she could get it in other ways. Merlin and Emrys had taken everything from her, so now she fight harder than ever to rip apart all that they had built and cared for.
Her exit from the Isle went unnoticed and uncared for, not even the boatman on the dock would acknowledge her as she moved her tiny boat across the water with magic. Her horse was where she'd left it, well-rested after the night that had passed. It was as well for the poor beast given the punishing pace she soon set for it, as she charged towards Camelot bent on vengeance.
But when she arrived, she did not race in to fling around spells and destruction. The walls gleamed with protections to her mind's eye, and she knew that any careless sorcery would bring Merlin here upon the wings of one of his wreched pet wyverns with all of his new Order at his heels. No, to take her revenge she would have to be subtle, and a lingering torture for Camelot would be far more satisfying.
Morgana lingered at the edges of the city, waiting for her chance to slip in. She kept her magic pressed down within her core, so that she would emanate no more presence to the wards than a petty conjurer. No, Merlin would not have made the wards that sensitive, for it would mean never-ceasing disturbances with the coming and going of Camelot's growing population of magic-wielders. The wards on the castle would likely detect her, but Morgana knew she didn't need to go that far. Gwen loved to walk among the people of the city, to speak to them, to learn of their needs, and they loved her for it. But that was also a weakness that could be exploited.
It was as Gwen made her daily stroll through the upper town, without escort in her complete confidence of this section nearest the castle, that Morgana struck. A moment of distraction, caused by a barrel toppling over, meant the bystanders didn't see their Queen grabbed and pulled into an alley. And it was there that Morgana clamped a hand over Gwen's mouth to prevent her calling for help.
Morgana smiled with malice as she looked into Gwen's frightened eyes, and her gaze drifted to the bracelet on the queen's wrist.
"Do you think your precious trinket will bring help running to you? Whoever that is meant to warn, when you are threatened by magic, it will not help you now... Not after I fixed it for you at the Tower." Her smile turned into a sneer. "But don't worry, I'm not here to kill you... No, I'm here to finish what my mandrakes started. It's time for you to play me a little game."
~(-)~
Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, Morgana has totally gone off the deep end. You like? Hehehehehehehehe!
