STRANGE DAYS


Pain was a funny thing, and Morgause knew it very well, all of its shapes and forms and ways it was applied in this cruel, cruel world.

When you lived with it long enough, it became just another kind of normal. It would live with and within you. Accept relief in some measure however and going back to the pain becomes impossible. Suddenly you fight it, biting and kicking, you do everything in your power so the pain won't win, no matter how inevitable the outcome. It opens a door to a new world and knowledge that will either make or break you.

Many used it to grow strong, believing that short breaths and hard work would build them up to become more than they were. Others used it on others, hoping to feel big, superior, feeding their own delusions about themselves, too far gone to realize their own insignificance, while some pain could be eternal, incapacitating and cruel. The most dangerous kind of pain, however, were the ones you couldn't feel, that came at you slowly, patiently and carved you into a stranger.

Morgause knew pain and she dreamed of it.

She dreamed of the spears piercing her flesh, hands dragging her away while her horse died under her legs. She felt her magic growing small, unresponsive, a shrieking shadow, barely able to keep her alive as the chains were dragged through her body, sewn inside her, biding her to a cage she had feared since she was a child. She dreamed of her skin burning up and the slurs and laughter of fiends.

"Do you like your cage?" One would ask, once defeated, now glaring. "I'll have one of these for your sister soon enough."

The voice vanished with Lot's face being blown away like a fog. Morgause whimpered, abandoned, alone in a world of unrecognizable shapes. Then one came forth, stepping into her view, familiar, tall and dear.

"Morgana?" She whispered, the question going unanswered. "Morgana, help me."

As the figure got closer she realized it wasn't her sister. No, she was a tall woman, dark eyes and hair that reflected her own. The fight slipping from her form, Morgause hiccupped, fire burning down her skin, her vision blurring as she shook her head.

"No…." She tried weakly as the figure held a cup in her hands, gold gleaming with a magic of its own, interlaced in the metal by centuries of dutiful work and caring. "Don't… Please don't do this…"

The woman brought the cup to her lips, smiling all the time, and although Morgause wanted to fight it, her body wasn't her own any more, and she drank everything, both the water and her tears.

"Mama…" She pleaded, but the form was already falling. "Mama!"

Dead, she was dead…. Morgause begged for those eyes to look at her, to tell her things. She wanted the soft humming she heard about in stories of how mothers are supposed to be. She wanted the lullabies and the kisses, and the thumbs brushing at her cheeks to clear away the tears. She wanted to run and smile and make mother proud, but Lady Vivienne just fell back like a ragged doll, swallowed by the fog.

There was a glaring light coming through her eyelids and a searing fire that pulsed through her body when her first instinct was to move. Heart hammering, she felt cold and sweaty, freezing and clammy all at once. When she tried to breath, to swallow, she felt the roughness inside her throat. Eventually she opened her eyes and gathered enough of herself for the blurs of her vision to disappear, revealing soft sunlight shining through the canopy of a tree. It felt good to register been touched by the sun again, and for an instant she marveled at the feeling until a loud cough made her body freeze, both in fear and dread.

"You okay?"

"I'm good."

A young feminine voice sighed. "You're boring a hole into that map since you woke up."

"I need to know where we're going."

"All right." A pause. "Do you know where we're going?"

"More or less. I figure we should ride north and circle back around Bayard's army. If the information Bayard got from Belmont is correct than Morgana will be on the other side of the river. It should be a good plan."

The answer was a jovial grunt, and although Morgause kept her eyes half closed in an attempt to hide and understand her situation, she could almost detect mirth in such small answer.

"We can't stay here for long though." The man continued, and now she was aware that he sounded very familiar. "Hector will be close."

"Are you sure? We doubled back twice last night."

"I know, and that should confuse him for a while, but he is not the only one I'm worried about." She heard a sound like dry parchment being rolled over. "If I were Hector I would've sent messengers both to Bayard and my father by now. In no time there will be two screens of scouts trying to cut us off on all sides."

There was a lingering pause in the conversation before the woman offered her response. "Well, we're lucky he isn't you then."

The man chuckled, leaving Morgause with little information in regards to these captors. Slowly however, she begun to see flashes of her time chained up. She was starting to remember, but the idea alone was too ludicrous to believe it at face value. Concentrating, the sorceress tried to feel her magic but could only feel a dripple acting on her own body, causing a desperate itch in and out of her. Such vulnerability clashed into her senses to make her feel like a child scared of the dark.

Except that Morgause had never been a child, and she was never scared of the dark.

Fuck all. She thought, opening her eyes completely and allowing herself a look around. She was flabbergasted to find that Arthur Pendragon of all people was indeed sitting a few paces from her, his profile frowning down into an iron mug. Beyond the prince, Morgause saw another shape she could've easily confused for a boy if she hadn't heard the voice. When the figure turned, locking their gazes, she was assaulted by the memory of a hammer and her screams echoing through the night.

"Oh."

"What?" Arthur Pendragon spared the serving girl a brief look before he turned to see what had startled her, and Morgause finally had the privilege of being a target of those famous blue eyes of his. "Fuck, you're up. See Gwen? I told you she would heal herself; that is why they had those things inside her in the first place."

The servant grimaced as if she disliked the information. "That is unusual."

"I know." Arthur admitted.

Morgause frowned as the two seemed to run out of words, her hands closing into fists as she wondered about their intentions. When the servant came closer she tried to move away, but every nerve inside her screamed at the mere attempt, with a humilliating whimper escaping her lips.

"Don't move. You're still hurt if you haven't noticed." The high priestess gritted her teeth, ire pressuring against her ribcage as the servant palmed and lifted the back of her head, offering her the mouth of a water skin. Morgause pursed her lips, fearful that it was something meant to put her to sleep, but the servant simply clicked her tongue in annoyance. "It is water, you drank it last night, remember?"

Last night to Morgause was a blur of voices, and sounds like thunder interlaced with spikes of pain. Shame burned inside her like poison, but her body responded by screaming right back with an animalistic need for hydration. Above her, the servant seemed to be struck by some new understanding, bringing the skin to her own mouth and taking a large gulp. She looked at Morgause as if to tell her "See?" and offered the skin again. Slowly, reluctantly, the sorceress opened her mouth. The water was the best thing she ever had. It poured down her throat fresh and cold and she drank as much as possible until a portion slipped into her chest and she coughed it up, feeling her eyes and nostrils burning. "Easy there, it went through the wrong tunnel."

"Wrong tunnel?" Morgause questioned, glaring at the girl through teary eyes.

"It's just something my father used to say, do you want more?" She did, finishing it all up before the girl lowered her head back over something soft. A hand came up, an unwanted touch on her forehead bringing a frown to the girl's face. "She still has a fever."

"Morgana told me the healing is taxing, it might take a while for her to be well, and she must be hungry too." Arthur piped in from behind the servant, and Morgause frowned as the girl nodded over her shoulder.

"All right, get her some food, I'll check the bandages."

Bandages? Morgause tried to follow the girl's hands. She noticed first that she was wearing a red shirt, her dress having disappeared from the waist up. Under the shirt thick bandages covered her chest and middle from where the pain was worse. Then she was screaming as the bandage was peeled away from the open wound.

"FUCK! DAMMIT! YOU CUNT!"

"Don't call her that." Pendragon seemed to appear out of nowhere, but Morgause was too busy trying not to bite her tongue to say anything back.

"It's all right, Arthur, I've heard worst working with Gaius, besides this must hurting like hell."

"I FUCKING KNOW!" Morgause said, closing her tearing eyes. It was like someone had put fire to her body, or driven a knife through her, severing muscles and nerve endings. She heaved and panted and wished the water had been tampered with. Fiery despair wishing for it all to end. Please end.

"Shit." Arthur said from her side, he was obviously taking a look and not liking what he saw.

"I'm just dressing it up, it will be quick."

Morgause wanted her to go to hell, but her curiosity and a renewed sense of violation urged her to seek answers. "What... are you applying?" She asked, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.

"Yarrow, plaintain and honey, wine to clean it up."

Morgause nodded, straining through the harrowing burning. She had no idea what she looked like, but she could guess it wasn't a pleasant sight, the fact that the girl…

Gwen?

Gwen!

Yes, her name was Gwen, Morgana liked to talk about her. This was the serving girl that would become Queen one day! Ha! By the Goddess, Morgause had the urge to laugh as she thought about it, of how she was in the middle of the forest with the future Queen and King of Camelot.

"I'll be quick" Gwen said. "I promise."

A promise?

A Promise!

The girl had demanded a promise from her last night. Wasn't she a cunning little thing? Her eyes were narrowed but she could see them, Pendragon avoiding his gaze and the servant dutifully staring at what she was doing. Oh yes, there was mettle there.

"I'm almost done here, Arthur."

"Good, she needs to eat and we have a long way to go." The prince hesitated. "Do you think she can stand?"

"I doubt it."

"You can ask me." Morgause finally had enough of their arguing, her voice coming out with a bite. "Stop talking as if I'm not here." The serving girl dared to raise an eyebrow as she attempted to look around. "Where am I?"

"A day's ride north of Green Ash."

Green Ash. She remembered the name. "What happened to my army?"

"I don't know, they are probably still under siege." Siege. Any ideas of a rescue or easy escape were disappearing faster that she could think. Silently Morgause promised a very vile end to that scum, Lord Belmont, one that even the gods would look away from. "If it makes you feel any better I don't think Bayard is doing a good job of it."

From the corner of her eye she saw the prince picking a wet cloth, and pressing it to her forehead. Morgause resisted the urge to sigh in relief, while the man parted a piece of bread with his hands, holding it close to her mouth. The hunger came as powerful as the thirst, and this time she accepted it without argument. The bread was half finished when he asked her a question.

"You don't happen to know where Morgana is, do you?"

She paused, swallowing the food and accepting more. Magic had consumed what little energy she had, and incarceration had done the rest. Already she could feel added weight to her eyelids, her body begging her to go to sleep, but she didn't want to, not with them, not with enemies.

"Is that a new interrogation tactic?" She mumbled, grasping for time, anything. She wondered if Morgana was looking for her, and hoped she was close.

"It was just a question."

A question.

She stared at the prince, chewed on the bread and look at the girl, so dutifully tending to her wounds. Confusion was not something Morgause was used to, so she quickly moved to remedy that.

"What is this?" She asked through gritted teeth. "Did you have a fight with Bayard or something? Are you trying to deliver me to your monster of a father?"

Pendragon barely reacted. He ripped another piece of bread and patiently brought it to her mouth, his blue eyes looking older and younger than the last time she saw it, all at once.

"I am taking you to Morgana." He explained "Once I deliver you to her as a gesture of good faith, I will negotiate peace."

She waited for the laugh, any clue that he might joking. When none came, she laughed for him, because it was a joke for sure. It was good, it hurt, and it helped to keep herself conscious. "Now I know I'm going mad."

"You're not mad." Said the servant.

Morgause grunted, feeling too tired for such horrible prank, as if they wouldn't be throwing her in a cage made in Camelot soon enough.

"Liars." She called them.

Arthur Pendragon sighed, running a hand angrily through his dirty blond hair. It was the servant that spoke for him.

"This man just risked everything for you, you should be thanking him."

"Thanking him?" Her mouth twisted onto a sneer. "How… How dare you? It was your side who took me, and put me in that cell!"

"Your own men delivered you to Bayard, and Arthur had nothing to do with that."

"I owe to…"

"Enough!" The prince cut in between them, talking to his future queen. "This will get us nowhere." His eyes fell back on Morgause and this time he was all hard lines and piercing determination. "I don't care what you think, frankly, you're the last person on the world whose opinion I would give any thought whatsoever. I'm simply telling you what is happening. Last night I drugged my own men just to get you out of that cage, if we wanted you to go to my father I wouldn't need to move a finger. Now, I'm going to take you back to Morgana whether you believe me or not, and then we're going to start sorting this mess."

It felt like he was talking to both of them, but Morgause could still feel her nostrils flaring.

"You're serious"

The Prince of Camelot just seemed annoyed.

As the hours followed Morgause endured the humiliation of being carried to the top of the horse, with the serving girl holding the reins from behind her as if she was a child. Arthur Pendragon rode by their side as they travelled through the woods. Occasionally they would double back and the prince would try to cover their tracks while also making different paths to confuse pursuers. Morgause tried to put some thought to his tactics, but despite eating and drinking, her brain still felt as sharp as a pile of mud, her feelings tinged by their constant offerings of water and food, and marked by the stark shame of having to ask when she needed to pee.

At some point her exhaustion caught up, the pacing of the horse acted like a lullaby and she finally fell asleep in the arms of the servant. This time, in the dream, her mother was whispering.

"Drink it."


When she opened her eyes again everything was dark, and for an instant her heart ceased, believing she was back in that cage where she couldn't even see the sky. Then, softly, her ears picked up on the crackling of a nearby fire. Shivering, Morgause sought to touch her sides, feeling the rough bandages under her fingers, hoping the reassuring touch would cast away the ghost of those irons in her flesh. Lucky wasn't on her side however, because suddenly his voice was there, being intrusive.

"Are you all right?"

She half wished she was still sleeping, but the sight of Arthur Pendragon sitting on a log across from her was too real for her taste. He had dug a hole on the ground to build a stealth fire between them – there were trees, and stones and bushes placed around them to block any escaping light. Meanwhile the servant was fast asleep to the side. Pursing her lips, she looked away, muttering that she was fine.

"Are you sure? It sounded like you were panicking."

"I don't…"

"You don't panic, all right." There was a suggestion of amusement on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing." She kept her glare on him for a while longer, until finally he seemed unable to resist. "Morgana also hated being scared."

She still does, Morgause thought.

"Are you hungry, thirsty?"

She was both and she didn't want to think about her smell or her breath considering that her tongue felt swollen inside her mouth. She wondered if it wasn't obvious and that arsehole only asked the question to annoy her.

"I can move myself." She lied, lifting a trembling hand up to brush her forehead. Arthur Pendragon ignored her; he walked closer and stopped short, staring at her. "What?"

"There is a tree behind you, do you mind if I prop you up?"

Morgause followed his gaze, noticing that indeed there was a sturdy elm sheltering them for the night. Morgause was glad she could move a little, but her middle still felt like it was an inch away from opening up and spilling her organs on the ground. still, something had resurfaced after he mentioned her sister. She had set out with the intent of taking Arthur's life for a reason, and now, there he was, so close.

"I've been hurt before." He said against her silence. "I know how annoying it is."

After an instant of hesitation she motioned for him to go ahead. Her eyes searched for a weapon, but found only the sword liying across the fire. She wanted to kill him, get it done, save them all, but she was weak and Pendragon was far gentler than she expected, lifting her up in an almost hug, and carefully touching her back to the tree. He also checked her temperature, seeming satisfied.

"Gwen said your wounds are healing, there is no infection anymore."

The murderous intent passed, and soon she was filling her stomach with a piece of hard cheese, while the Prince of Camelot sat spinning a ring around his finger. Now that she paid attention there was something else about him at the moment. "Whose blood is that?"

He followed her gaze to the stains on his mail and cloak. "It's nothing."

"It's something." Lowering her trembling hands, the high priestess wondered to all the questions that came to her slowly clearing mind. "If I am to be captured again I would hope to be awake for it."

"I won't let that happen."

"You and a servant won't let that happen?" She hoped her mocking tone was clear enough to show the amount of faith she had on those two. "Pardon me if I don't laugh at your joke."

"I thwarted you plenty of times, didn't I?"

She would give him that one, for now at least, because her first instinct was to remind him of the forces working against this silly idea of his. Mercia and the Five Kingdoms were all out there, the greatest gathering of armies she had seen in her age, and if she was to believe the boy in front of her, he was going to bring peace. She called him boy, because that is what he looked like sometimes, like now, tightening the cloak around his shoulder, fire crackling, illuminating his young features. He had looked the same long ago, when she bid him to fulfill his promise and lower his head to a block. "What exactly are you planning, Arthur Pendragon?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, is this your whole idea? You bring me to Morgana and then what? Are you hoping she will meekly bow to your demands? Are you going to appeal to her in the name of goodness and decency?" She mocked with utter satisfaction. "I must say; if you're telling the truth I'm almost looking forward to watch her putting you in chains for the sheer audacity."

"She won't do that."

"How do you know?"

"Maybe you don't know Morgana as well as you think."

"Maybe I should say the same." She smirked coldly at the anger in his eyes. "You might have spent your life seeing her as some meek ward, dutifully going through her duties, but she is not a maid waiting for you to save her."

"She never was." Arthur said. "And maybe you're right, maybe I don't know her since your plots and manipulations began."

"Manipulations? I freed her!"

"You made her into a killer."

"She already was a killer." She spread her arms, cheese crumbs flying over their camp. "We're all killers, Arthur Pendragon, except she was also my sister."

"Mine as well!"

Morgause scoffed. "Is that going to be your strategy? Are you going to try and make her remember the good times under Uther Pendragon's wardenship? She is not a meek ward that you can bring into your good graces anymore; she won't be fooled by your false affections or your father's." She felt her fire growing brighter inside her, the fury and resentment of her confinement finally feeding her power once more. "Morgana is a warrior now; she is destined to bring back the Old Ways, to cut down the snake of ignorance that your father fattened and released around this country."

"You seem to think she is some kind of War Lord."

"She is what the world made her." Morgause reiterated. "Every country in Albion is out there now, with soldiers and steel in hands, trying to destroy what she is trying to create, if you think there can be peace then you're delusional or, as I thought before, a liar."

The prince snorted. "That is rich coming from you."

"Excuse me?"

"You tried to have me kill my own father." Arthur Pendragon accused, his eyes burning. "Tell me, how honest it is to use someone's mother to manipulate him, if that even was my mother."

"I gave you the truth and you ignored it."

"Ignored it? You wanted me to kill my father."

"You father killed thousands." Morgause said. "I gave you a chance to end his horror, I gave you your mother."

"That wasn't my mother."

"It was!" Morgause roared. "I brought her shade into shape myself; I put her right in front of you so you might know the truth, the truth about magic, the truth about your father! And what did you do with it? You spurned it and you went back to smiling and laughing while my people died."

Arthur Pendragon narrowed his eyes. "Why should I believe you?"

"As if I ever bothered to lie to you." She paused, knowing the next part would hurt. "That was Morgana's job."

His fury was delightful. She saw him making to jump to his feet, a hand automatically seeking his sword. She almost wished he would come at her for real, but instead of attacking he just stood there wearing his indignation like a weapon. When he moved, he turned his back on her, marching towards the darkness. Good riddance.

Morgause briefly debated if she had a chance of staying awake to stab the prince in his sleep, but already she was fighting a lost battle. Soon she wouldn't need him anyway. With a little more time, more food she would be walking with her own legs. Closing her eyes the priestess sought out the power that was around her as well. She sought the life of the tree, and the grass, and the wind. She sought the power of the fire and the insignificant life of cicadas. She took it slowly, bringing that power into her body, and almost right away, she felt a little stronger.

There wasn't enough within her to pull further from the world, but if she kept it up…

If she kept it up she would free and her sister as well.


She managed to stay conscious for longer periods of time in the following day.

The pain had lessened considerably, the fever was gone and mostly she was left with healing wounds itching in their own special flavor of hell. As before she was forced to ride a horse with the servant, but the ride proved itself to be more tolerable when she could seat behind the woman and hold her waist.

Their travels took them through a patch of open field in a hurry, the exposure glaring at them from all sides, but eventually they were back inside a forest, trudging their way through narrow openings and hunting trails. As the sun rose to its peak, they had to climb off the horses to cross a stream that zigzagged over a steeply hill, the water running south with force. The prince and the servant had to both help her through, the water coming over her knees. Twice she slipped, the agony making her see white, and twice they caught her, bringing her heaving shape to the other side before going back to the horses. The whole time, Morgause watched them, taking note of every move they made, how they would talk in whispers or vanish when she seemed too frail to escape.

She enjoyed her time by resting and napping when possible, the dripple of magic becoming a small string that fed her more and more. By the time the sun begun its slow passage to the west, Morgause had no idea where they were. The prince rode ahead to scout the path, and the two women were left alone with nothing but the horses' hooves and their own breathing as company.

"What is a shade?"

The question caught Morgause by surprise. She thought this would be a silent trip, but the servant didn't seem aware of her preferences. The question also was quite revealing.

"Is it a habit of yours to eavesdrop?"

"You and Arthur were shouting." The servant replied. "Are you going to answer or not?"

Morgause watched their surroundings, the foliage was becoming thin now, a sign they would leave the forest soon.

"A shade is emotion taken shape; it's usually a product of a traumatic or desperate death. If a person leaves this world with regrets or strong emotions like hate, they will leave a shade behind."

"Like a ghost."

She snorted, finding Gwen's ignorance to be funny. "Ghosts are disturbed spirits, they haunt and cause trouble and need very specific spell work to be conjured. Shades however vanish with time, the only way to speak to a shade is to bring it together yourself. It can speak with you but only with the last words and intentions from the person who created it."

The pacing of the horse cradled both women for a moment before Gwen voiced her conclusions.

"So Arthur was right, you were lying to him."

"I did not lie!"

"You did." Gwen continued. "You said he would speak with his mother, but you just said she was a shade."

"Yes, she was a shade." Morgause was growing impatient now, it was like dealing with children. "It doesn't mean it wasn't his mother. Whatever words she said to him, whatever she expressed, those were real, her genuine intentions and feelings in the moment of her death." She paused, biting her lower lip. "I was actually expecting her to be angrier than she was."

"Why don't you try telling that to Arthur?"

"Are you trying to get us to get along?"

"I want him to be at peace." Gwen's voice was harsh in Morgause's ears. "Every child deserves something from their parents, not all get it, but they still deserve it." A pause. "I expected you to understand something like that."

"What are you implying, servant?"

Gwen chuckled. "Was that meant to offend me?"

"Explain yourself."

"I'm not sure you want to hear it." Morgause stared at the neck in front of her, following the beads of sweat running into Gwen's shirt. "That first night we got you out, you were out of it. Arthur and I were scared you would die before we got the fever under control. You were crying sometimes, then you called for your mother."

The high priestess suddenly wanted to reach out with her magic, wrap an invisible grip around her throat and squeeze. Another part of her wanted to use her bare hands. "Aren't you afraid of death, girl?"

"From you?" She asked. "You made a promise to me in exchange for your freedom, unless you were lying, but you keep insisting that you don't lie."

"You coerced me."

"I did." She sounded unashamed. "I bet you've done worse to people who deserved it less."

"And still here you are. I wonder, if it comes to it are you going to give your life for mine? Are you going to stand before our enemies, sword in hand, for a person like me?"

"Yes."

The lack of hesitation surprised her. "What?"

"Yes, I said yes." Gwen insisted. "If it comes to it, I'll stand my ground and defend you."

Morgause was stunned. "Why?"

Above the women, a bird sung a brief tune, flying from branch to branch. Brand new leaves rustled together, and soon there would be blossoms and fruits as the world carried out into spring, uncaring for the souls fighting for their lives. Finally, Morgause let her body swing atop of the saddle, feeling stiff and uncomfortable; expecting the answer to her question would never come.

"Uther Pendragon killed my father." Said the woman who would one day rise to her sister's throne. "I've spent nights in the dungeons, and have felt prejudice. I thought about leaving sometimes, but I never did. Camelot is all that I know."

"I almost feel sorry for you."

"You shouldn't." Gwen looked back over her shoulder, there was a smile on her face and sadness on those eyes. "I suppose I should have sought revenge. Maybe when Arthur came to offer me my place in the castle I should've stabbed him in the back, waited a while and gone after his father as well. You probably would, wouldn't you?" She didn't bother to confirm. "But I had grown up with Morgana, I watched her speaking at court, and allowed her to comfort me. I had grown up watching Arthur struggling, and showing glimpses of the person he truly was and Merlin, I knew him just that year and already I cared for his goofiness. They were all there for me, they cared. Do you know how it feels to be cared for?"

Morgause knew how it felt when Nimue was proud of a well-executed spell. She also knew the tearing happiness and horror of knowing a mother only for a night. She knew the fear for a sister's life.

"To answer your question, I'm not doing this because I'm sure Arthur is right, or because I believe for certain that this will work. I'm doing it because I know him, and if he needs me to protect you, the woman who attacked my friends, the woman who brought misery to my home and took my best friend away, then that is what I'm going to do."

Morgause felt sick, a foreign sensation that urged her to look away and retreated into herself. Once, she hadn't believed Morgana's plan either, but she knew her sister and wanted to help anyway. She wondered if this servant had known Morgana too at some point and if that knowledge was driving a part of her actions. It was a stark realization that Gwen might know a part of Morgana that Morgause had yet to see, and that somehow hurt worse than her still healing wounds.

Her thoughts drifted off however, when Arthur suddenly came riding in their direction, his alarmed gaze telling them everything they needed to know before he could open his mouth. "There are scouts ahead; I counted ten of them with a bloody crown."

"Lot" Morgause supplied, spitting out the name.

"What do we do?" Gwen asked.

"The maps showed me some ridges to the south of here, maybe were can get around them."

Morgause wanted to argue, but she couldn't really come up with a better suggestion. Instead, she focused her strength on her magic. In her current state she couldn't see herself winning any fights against a rabbit. Suddenly, it was a fact, they could all be dead soon, even if she used those two as distraction Morgause disliked her chances.

It seemed she might be unable to tell Arthur Pendragon about shades.

Strangely, she almost felt sorry for it.


Arthur's plan was going seamlesly until a lonely almost bored rider spotted them from atop of a hill. From that point it was a race. Having two people on a horse there was no hope for them to outrun their pursuers, so Morgause watched as Arthur guided them back into the wild. On the saddle, the servant guided the horse with an experience that was unexpected, pulling the reins left and right, always letting the beast find its own path after showing the way, the lack of pattern making the sorceress grit her teeth and press her face on Gwen's back.

"We're losing them" Arthur shouted from somewhere to her right.

"Where do we go?"

The rest of the speech became a mumbled string of words she didn't pay attention to. Her heart was beating fast now, drumming against her ribcage while her wounds were fresh open and pulsing with renewed pain. She just wanted that whole thing to end. There was something warm running down her body. Fucking end!

"Shit!"

Maybe the gods hated her.

Suddenly the horse started another run, making a sharp curve to the left that almost had her slipping from the saddle. Opening her eyes, Morgause glimpsed the trees passing by in blurs of different colors. There were also riders, their visage more focused due to the accompanying speed, one of them was drawing his sword and then Arthur Pendragon appeared out of nowhere, his own blade singing with a glinting strike.

The rider fell off, and Morgause closed her eyes again.

She had no idea how many times they moved and stopped. Their horses were getting tired, and the three of them weren't much better. Morgause could see the exhaustion taking over her companions, nights of half sleep and bursts of intense action were taking their toll by the end of the day. Sometimes they would elude their pursuers, only to find more waiting half a day away. They surrounded them from all sides, and before she knew it, Arthur Pendragon was hiding them in an alcove under a massive three whose roots arched over a slope.

As they squeezed themselves into the hole, the serving girl eyed the horses critically. "We have to let them go."

"I know." Arthur said.

"You can't" Morgause argued before they could do anything, hands clutching at her bleeding side where the wounds had opened. Sweat dripped from her forehead, she knew she must be a mess, but she wasn't mad. "Without horses we're surely doomed."

"The horses will do us no good, surrounded as we are." The prince answered. "The best we can do is hide and wait them out, and we can't hide the horses."

"But…"

"They can also lead them away, I didn't see any dogs with Bayard and there was none in my father's army. I leave the horses, make sure they go somewhere far from here and they might follow the trail."

The servant was nodding along, and Morgause found herself too tired to argue, her wits were starting to abandon her. Forlornly, she looked around, wondering if she could find a place to hide herself while listening to Arthur pulling both mounts away. He was going to wipe their traces and come back. Gwen acted fast in cleaning and trying to stop her bleeding, before getting up and inspecting the alcove.

"All right, you should get comfortable, we might be here a while."

"Don't tell me what to do."

The servant shrugged, pulling her cloak around her shoulders and finding some covering for their hiding. Morgause waited the appropriate time to make sure she didn't seem like some lapdog doing as told, before going in.

When Arthur returned the three of them all squeezed themselves in the hide out. The place was so small they had to stay on their sides, shoulders touching. This close, Morgause could feel everything, the scent of long travel and unwashed bodies, the lingering touch of blood and the seeming scream of their breathing. Outside, the skies slowly turned a fiery orange and then, faded into the dark blue of the night. Morgause fidgeted, allowing the tight stone walls to keep her upright. Arthur Pendragon coughed a few times, behind her the servant sniffled.

"I'm so sorry." Morgause frowned at the whispered apology, Pendragon's eyes falling beyond Morgause making sure she knew it wasn't meant for her. "You should never have come here."

"You should never have tried to hide what you were doing." Gwen answered.

"This was foolish."

"No it wasn't."

"Guinevere…"

"You were doing something good, never regret doing something good."

Arthur Pendragon huffed, but his lips curled into a smile. "Merlin really is missing out, isn't he?"

"I'm sure he will be glad to hear you tell the story."

"I might leave this part out."

Morgause's ear perked at the mention of the mighty Emrys, his absence finally registering in her mind like an eerily wound. "Indeed, where is that bothersome servant of yours?"

Pendragon's silence screamed louder than any other answer, it was Gwen that clarified the situation. "He is hurt, bedridden."

"Oh, really?"

"Don't talk about him." The Prince's glare was enough of a warning.

"I won't, I'm just curious to hear about the boy that so often thwarted my plans, I think he might have saved Camelot more times than you." There was something very engaging about the curiosity on the Prince's eyes, like a pet squirming not to run after a thread.

"Merlin is worth a thousand of you."

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that." Depends on how you see a traitor to his own kind, but then again, these people's obliviousness to the boy was quite funny.

"Why do you insist on being like this with the people helping you?" Gwen questioned from her back, and Morgause managed a shrug.

"Why not? You said it yourself that we might here a while, might as well have fun."

Unfortunately even goading showed itself to have limits. Eventually she began to struggle.

This time, in her dreams, her mother brushed a hand over her cheek, soft and warm as love should be.


She woke up again with shouts and a hand clamping on her mouth, the noise carrying through her in a maelstrom of promise, and one rising above all.

"We know you're around here, Prince Arthur!" It was Lot, Morgause could recognize that voice anywhere. "We know you're close!"

She darted her eyes around the small cave. Arthur was the closest to the entrance, watching whatever was happening out there. Quickly, she disentangled herself from the hand, glaring at the servant and waiting. The noise was close, animals and men both, the light of torches cutting through the slit that was her view, while her head pounded with a headache.

"We don't want to hurt you, Prince Arthur!" The shout continued. "Your countrymen are angry, but they won't harm you and I just want the witch! I'm sure we can come to a reasonable agreement!"

"The circle is closing" Arthur whispered from the front and indeed she could see more light gathering in front of their hiding, it was a matter of time before they were found.

"What do we do?" The servant asked.

She couldn't see the prince's face from where she was, but Morgause could almost feel the resolute energy brimming from his body. "You run, I'll keep them busy."

"Arthur."

"You can do it."

"That is not the problem."

"Are you in there, your highness?" This time Morgause winced, sure that Lot had indeed found them.

Arthur Pendragon must have thought the same because he walked out, kicking their coverings away and unsheathing his sword right in front of their enemy. Behind her back Morgause felt a push and limped after him, glaring at the wall of fire that was indeed surrounding them. Gwen unsheathed a sword of her own as she came out and Morgause counted their enemies.

"That was a clever trick, Pendragon! I'll give you that." Lot boasted with a grin handing his torch to one of his men. "I admit I expected this to be easier, Bayard actually thought we would be a match, can you believe? He is quite disappointed in you, when your men came up to our camp talking of betrayal, I must say I was disappointed myself."

There were twenty one that she could see, but there might be more beyond the torch lights. Morgause trembled. Magic was a shapeless energy; its roots were in the air, the earth and life. For these last days she had spent her time healing, and recovering. Now, it seemed, she would see the true lenght of her habilities taken to the limit. In front of her, Arthur was still.

"Your trick with the horses was clever." Lot mentioned, leaning forward. "Might have tricked someone less experienced, but I have been hunting men for years now" He cocked his head. "Nothing to say?"

"Gwen! Now" Arthur made to run, Gwen did the same, Morgause followed only to see the girl suddenly come down, screaming in pain. "Gwinevere!"

She didn't stop to see what had happened; she heard the coiled strings of crossbows shooting from the shadows, felt bolts hitting the ground around her and saw two swordsmen blocking her path. She was not going back to that cage. Summoning her magic, the high priestess reached out and screamed.

"Ablinn ðu; forlæte ðu nu!" The words facilitated the magic, energy born in her core, flying out of her hands and making her eyes glow golden in the darkness.

For instants Morgause felt more like herself. The pain disappeared, her vision crystalized, everything vanished, there was only her, the power, and the bodies flung out of her way to lie dead on the ground. Then the path was clear and she needed only to run, run enough and hide. A cloaking spell would be enough. Yes. She was free. Just a little…

The high vanished, leaving her suddenly lightheaded. The strenght drained from her body in the blink of an eye, her legs turned to goo and she tripped, falling face first on the ground. Stupid. Everything hurt. Heaving, Morgause felt her stomach churning, the contents climbing her throat to be expelled on the ground in front of her eyes. Foolish. Trembling limbs were barely holding her up as she felt the menace of approaching steps. I'm sorry sister.

"Well, that was unexpected…"

"Lot!"

"…The whore had some power left, Fog, hold her up would you."

Pain flared on the back of her skull as a fist grabbed her hair and pulled. Her eyes focused on the view in front of her, of Lot standing, arms on his waist, checking his dead men. Behind him, Arthur was cradling a whimpering Guinevere, blood seeping from her calf where a bolt had gone through the flesh. Lot chuckled.

"Well, I think you've done it this time Morgause, now the rest of my men will be really angry, luckily we have some time before we go back."

"Don't touch her!" To her surprise, Arthur Pendragon got his feet. "Don't touch her!"

Why was he defending her still? Morgause had no idea. She wanted him dead for her Goddess' sake! She tried to fight the grip behind her and a received a stronger pull in response, a whimper escaping her lips. Lot seemed to be as intrigued as she was.

"What did you say?"

"Do not touch her, Lot, I'm warning you"

Laughter. "I can't believe it! Arthur Pendragon you're truly fighting for that woman?"

Pendragon's response was lifting his sword. Foolish man. Morgana always said he was noble to that point but it was the first time Morgause fell on the good side of his actions. Now, the Once and Future King was about to meet his end, not at her hand or her sister's, but some northern war lord with a complex. She hoped this would at least pay her sister's debt to the Disir. She prayed for it.

"Very well" Lot suddenly said. "Let's see how the famous Arthur Pendragon does in battle."

But he didn't step forward to fight, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A crossbow loosed from the darkness and Arthur barely had time to jump away. The men around chuckled with their master, while Gwen whimpered the prince's name from the ground.

"Very good, very good…" Another snap, twice. The bolts came, and Morgause blinked in wonder when the Prince raised his sword blocking a bolt coming straight to his face. He wasn't fast enough to save himself from the one that hit his shoulder.

Arthur Pendragon gasped in pain, dropping his sword, fingers twitching. A few steps in front of Morgause, Lot shook his head. "Disappointing, I was hoping for more." He walked around the clearing. "The son of Uther Pendragon should be able to stand a little pain, and that is not all, right? According to rumors you're that witch's brother as well. A sister and a brother!" He eyed Morgause. "How perfect, I wonder how she will react to the news, not that I believe that woman has anything in her chest but ashes. Now let's try again shall we? Go on, pick up the sword.

"Arthur don't…." Gwen pleaded.

"Pick up the sword, Pendragon!" Lot bellowed, spreading his hands. "Come on, show us your strength, seed of the mighty Uther! Do you know for how long I've wondered about you? Heard stories left and right about the famous prince, son of his famous father?"

"Arthur…"

"Shut up!" Lot cried out, making Gwen flinch, his shadow covering Morgause. The man pulling at her hair raised her head, and suddenly she was a target of Lot's eyes, a dagger poking her on the neck. "Let's see how far you go, come on, pick up the sword, Pendragon."

For the first time since their nightly conversation, Morgause meet Arthur Pendragon's eyes, the blue filling her vision, bathed in glowing embers. He bent forward and picked up the blade.

"How about a deal, Lot?"

Above her, the warlord snickered. "A deal?"

"Just take me" Arthur said anyway, and there was a note of desperation in his voice. "Take me, let the two of them go, leave them here and take me. I'm the son of Uther, just like you said, a prince of Camelot. I'm can be useful to you."

"Oh, Prince, you're really not good at this, are you? If I took you with me, Uther would hunt me down. Even Bayard would probably just give you a pat in the back before hanging these women." A pause. "Besides, I already have you if you haven't noticed."

Mockingly, Lot raised his hand. Guinevere cried out. Arthur gulped, raising his sword, a warrior to the end.

Lot snapped his fingers and someone screamed.

The body of a man was flung from the shadows to fall in front of Arthur's feet. Swordsmen vanished and flew in the air, their screams filling the forest. In front of her, Lot looked on in confusion, and then a voice, its speech a resounding thunder, magic words, summoning a whirlwind that erupted from the middle of them. Men raised their hands trying to protect themselves, their weapons flying out of their hands while Arthur dove protectively over Guinevere. Behind her, Morgause felt her hair loose as a shapeless shadow walked into their midst. He raised a staff, still chanting. She fell on her hands, wonder brimming in her eyes. "Sister?"

Lot spared her a look, raised his sword to end her life and a fireball flew from the shadow, hitting the man's hand. He screamed as it caught fire, the flaming limb shaking as he threw himself on the ground. Morgause reached out, but she couldn't squeeze his throat as she wished to, and there was nothing to do but watch as the man got back on his feet, following his fleeing men into the forest.

When all was quiet, Morgause finally took a better look at the shadow, heart sinking, mind puzzled. He was a man wearing a shabby cloak, with a druid mark shining on his cheek, a wide grin on his face as he looked over the Prince. "You seem in rough shape, Arthur Pendragon."

"You!" The blond startled. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving you." The man responded, smiling. He made to get closer to Gwen, but Arthur suddenly found energy to stand in front of her. The stranger sighed. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"I don't know about that."

"You did know to offer mercy to this man, when you and Merlin found this face in the woods, you could've done anything, but you held on to your best parts and that in itself proves you heart still hold truth." The man stepped forward and like a sheet, his appearance seemed to fall away, revealing the face of an old man wearing old white robes. "I, of course, apologize for deceiving you."

"Anhora" Arthur breathed out the name as the figure leaned over Gwen. Morgause blinked, she could see the prince felt scared, even more so as the old man whispered a spell over the servant's injured leg. Guinevere's scared eyes closed in a gasp as the magic worked around, removing the bolt and healing the flesh.

"Arthur, I don't…"

"Gwen."

Arthur looked on, thankful, and then Morgause found herself target to eyes that seemed deep with sorrow and age. He leaned over her, the gold of his gaze soft as she felt part of her strength returning. Her head stopped pounding, and her wounds stopped aching. She felt like she had awoken from a full of sleep. Out of her depth, she could only stare as he offered her a smile.

"Your role has potential to bring great things, Morgause of Gorlois."


"He is the keeper of the unicorns" Arthur was telling Guinevere from where he was, the title spurring something in Morgause's memories. "He cursed Camelot once, because I killed a unicorn, he put me through trials to break the curse and I thought I would never see him again." He looked to the man. "What are you doing here?"

"Testing you as I explained, or did you think I wouldn't be keeping an eye on you?" Anhora said. "You've come a long way since we last met, Arthur Pendragon. At that time I'm sure that, wheter by imprisonement or your own sword that man's life would've been taken the night you found him outside your camp." The prince looked away, seeming ashamed. "But you've grown and now more than ever I needed to make sure you could be the catalyst of a change that will lighten the future of this land."

As he talked, Morgause had slowly gotten to her feet, the overwhelming situation making her contemplate a quick escape into the night. Her thoughts were stopped however when she turned around to find the white shadow staring right at her. When Morgana had described meeting a unicorn, she thought her sister might've been exaggerating the wonder of the encounter. Now, she wasn't sure as the creature walked past her, long legs flexing powerful muscles, its horn shimmering like a diamond under the moonlight.

"Do you remember him?"

Arthur didn't answer; entranced as he was, he barely flinched as Anhora healed his arm. The unicorn stopped inches away from him, its breath smoking in the air, eye penetrating. Then, carefully, all so slow, the prince raised a gloved hand and the unicorn touched it in a gesture that left Morgause both baffled and jealous.

"He is beautiful." Guinevere noticed coming up to his side. Arthur laughed, nodding and Morgause gave one step forward, stopping short of being part of the picture.

"He will take you to where you need to go."

Arthur frowned. "By himself?"

"Unicorns are strong and very fast, I would suggest you hold tight." Anhora told them that with a glint in his eyes and then, he vanished, as mysteriously as had appeared, leaving the three of them with the unicorn.

Arthur smiled up at the creature, seeming taking the recent actions for what they were. He looked at Guinevere with a face like a child and grabbed her waist. The servant squeaked as he helped her up, sitting her over the beast. Then it was her turn. He hesitated, and then lifted a hand in her direction.

"Are you all right to go?"

Morgause pursed her lips.

She look around herself to the, behind her the two men she killed were still there, and would probably rot on that same spot. Around them, discarded weapons were littering the ground, a testament to how close they had been to their end, and how those two people had fought not for her, not really. She didn't believe that for a second, but Arthur wanted to bring her to Morgana. It would be easy for her to escape now, make a path of her own, but those two hadn't harmed so far.

"Arthur will help…" Morgana once told her, tripping out of her house, tears in her eyes.

"Arthur Pendragon is an empty promise, sister." Morgause had answered, knowingly.

Morgause knew many things.

She hadn't until that moment, known how it felt to mount a unicorn, holding to two people who were once her enemies. She also didn't know the speed with which the creature traveled, braving faster than the wind.

She didn't know she could feel so much, and not know what to do with it.


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