Defeat has a bitter taste.
Shattered ego cuts on every step.
But if all that brings one to home, they feel an odd satisfaction at their own loss.
And she felt that.
Staring at the magnificent towers and ancient structure sprawled over the green meadows, she felt a crushing sadness yet at the same time her soul soared in joy. The snow added to the castle's majestic beauty. The ledges were full of it. The staircase had growing piles on both sides. The heavy doors would open every so often, with powdery snow already cast aside, giving her a glimpse of inside - promise of warmth luring her strongly.
She rubbed her frozen hands wistfully.
She didn't know what she was doing there... What she hoped to accomplish... What this place could do for her anymore...
But she knew that she wanted to be rescued.
To be saved.
From her past, from the memories, from her self.
From the guilt, anger and grief eating her alive.
From the visions of her cruelty, of the pain she was given and the pain she inflicted.
But most of all - she wanted to be rescued from him.
She had tried - oh lord, how she had tried in vain... To hate him - to resent him - then to forget him. She had thrown herself in her work, forced herself to make new acquaintances, even dated a few... And then she saw him dying and it all vaporized like water on smoldering coals...
Whatever their past may hold - she wasn't done with him in this lifetime...
Yes, he had killed her - attempted several times too. But just like the blade of the broad sword in her stomach, she could not stop feeling the ache her heart felt where he went away with a piece of it.
She loathed herself for her weakness. And she fought within at every step to this place. But just one glimpse of the dark, magnificent structure and she broke down like a tower of cards. Her breath came easier, her heart slowed down and her taut limbs loosened.
She was home.
She felt tears prickling her eyes and she knew they weren't there because of cold only. How can a place that caused her so much misery and pain and heartache could be the only place she felt at home? How pathetic she must be to not find a single other place that could compare to the warm yet challenging embrace of this place? Its corridors were riddled with painful memories of her tears and fright at every turn. Its walls still held the echoes of swords she clashed with those she once loved more than her life. Its rooms saw her nightmares and then were witness to when she became one herself.
Yet she still yearned to enter it.
Much like him.
For all the agony he had caused her, she still wanted him alive. For all the rage and hatred he filled her heart with, she still yearned to see that awkward smile that turned his eyes to blue crescents.
Why is love not a physical entity to be cut off from your heart completely and be done with it?
For love it was, she had finally accepted. Hidden under so many layers of pain and rage that it took her all her two lifetimes to dig it out but love it was. That yearning, that heartache, that belonging - all that she felt without him and about him - it was love. And she can hate herself for it or accept herself for it but it wasn't going away. She can scream otherwise from every tower of that palace, but it wouldn't change a thing. She had loved him before - when he killed her and when she wanted him dead and when he was her biggest enemy - and she had loved him now - when he was a stranger turned friend turned fellow lost traveller of multiple lifetimes.
She felt tears silently sliding down her face and wiped them away hastily. She will probably never find him again and she was glad for it. She wouldn't know what to do with him.
But a part of her - the part that screamed for the stranger in the road - wanted some sign. A confirmation of sorts to know that wherever he was, he was alive. And that was why she was here. She knew the day that man died where she must go. If she could be certain... That was all she needed right now. If she has to go through this lifetime alone, then alone it is. If she were to never see his face again, never feel that connection and that eagerness for him, then so be it. But he must live. Without her. Without them. He must exist for her to spend the rest of her life wondering of thousands what ifs. She wouldn't mind. She wouldn't mind the regret, the loss, the agony. But he must live.
As she stared at the huge wooden doors, she felt their heavy stare on her soul. They were witness of yet another of her defeats. But they wouldn't judge. Surely, far worse people than her has crossed these doors.
Uther, for one, she thought with some disdain.
Taking a deep, cold breath, she turned her back to the doors. It broke her heart once more to not get lost in the embrace of its haunted hallways and memorable rooms. But for once, the answers weren't waiting within.
She was here to be somewhere else.
Gathering all her determination in each step of the way, she made her way through the woods. They were the same as three years ago as if time never existed there. Tall trees towered over her, their branches mingled together to cast a patchy shadow over the snow below. Rough ground was layered thinly with snow and the faintest hint of a path spiraled its way deep into the heart of the forest. It was just as quiet as the last time; the birds having left their homes for warmer ones, the air still with a baited breath of a silent observer.
She remembered the time she covered this path before. It was her idea. She was the one who wanted to know at any cost.
He was with her, then. The last time he was with her.
Little did she knew back then that the cost would be him. Would she still have insisted if she knew? Would knowing about that past feel worth losing him?
The victim in her growled yes. Yes, she had a right to know her past, what he did to her, how he betrayed, manipulated and then later, killed her. She was right to know.
But the lonely child of echoing sadness and empty heart shied away from this violent thought. It would probably, maybe, perhaps be okay if they both didn't know...? It whimpered.
She closed her eyes tightly, forcing bygones be bygones, pushing away what ifs and making her way through snow. Was the path always that long? Or did the company made it seemed shorter last time?
It felt strange to be here once more. Her magic felt like static on her fingers; alive and eager with a nervous energy. More than once she turned around suddenly, thinking she heard something. Nothing showed itself though, and calming her erratic heart, she continued on her way. The path had long disappeared but she felt like being pulled by the string to her destination. She made no resistance, allowing the magic to guide her. The closer she got, the harder it became to turn away. She could almost envision being pulled by invisible hands.
I'm coming, she thought in her mind, as if calming the insistent calling, I'm almost here.
Her answers will be there. The thirst to know about him, to see him alive and living was dragging her forward. The thought made her steps tangled as she tried to move faster.
The day she saw that man die, she knew she will have to see him again to make sure he was, truly, unharmed. And only one place could offer her such information without ever having to actually see him.
The Crystal Cave.
Her memories showed her how the crystals can be used to see the present as well as past and future. And all she needed was a glimpse. She wondered what she will see. Would he be traveling in some exotic country among the old tombs? Or just passing mundane young adult life of working and drinking and spending time in bars? Who else would she see with him? He never mentioned his family much except his mother. She wondered if that's how she will get her first look of her. Or maybe he doesn't live with his mother anymore. Maybe he has his own place now. And someone to share it with.
The thought was like a punch in her gut that made her hold on a nearby tree trunk as she reeled from it.
Will she see him with another? Smiling, talking, hugging, kissing another?
She placed a hand on her mouth as nausea churned inside her. Does she really want to know now? She almost turned back.
But she didn't.
Breathing deeply a few times she pulled herself together.
You never wanted him to be with you so why does it matter now, she asked herself. You said all you ever wanted was for him to live. You can't choose whom he does it with. Unless you want it to be you.
Never, the priestess snarled.
Then all you are looking for is a glimpse.
She could see the entrance to the cave from where she was standing and now, without any hesitation, she moved towards it.
It was utter darkness and she conjured a flame to help her see. Stepping into the rough, uneven floor, her body shivered with anticipation. She felt the intense energy of the cave enveloping her and all her nerves felt alive. She took a moment to let the energy wash over her and absorbed it with relish. It was power. It was strength. It was alive.
She crossed the small corridor and came at the mouth of the enormous cavern. The crystals glowed dimly, taunting her with answers. Smiling, she stepped inside the cavern, drinking in the sight.
It was just as breathtaking as before; the bluish glow all around the place, the crystals twinkling and winking, going deep into the cave. Her reflection appeared in many of them as she passed one after another. Her glance moved swiftly, chasing her image from all sides.
It felt surreal.
Suddenly, she heard a sound at the entrance and her instincts screamed. She whirled around, her magic drawing up to her palms. Her eyes glowed like twin suns and her arms flew out. It was like a warp in the air, the magic, as it worked its way. A backward draft of wind got caught in the magic and her hair blew back, floating behind her wildly as a hundred of the sharpest crystals soared through the air and came to a sudden halt within an inch of the intruder, surrounding him from all sides.
She felt a white blankness covering her mind as she tried to make sense of the impossible.
There, at the entrance to the most magical place on earth, even leaner than before with hair even more disheveled than ever and a face that had aged inappropriately for the time that passed, stood him.
x-x-x
He saw his death approaching in form of several of his own reflections and the only thing his eyes could see was her.
That would be a good death, he found himself thinking, with her face as the last image in his mind.
It didn't matter that the face was rapidly moving from blank shock to repulsive anger. It didn't matter that his own blood burned with defensive magic. And it didn't matter that he had abandoned hope of every camaraderie between them at the entrance to the cave.
He was looking at her, after three long years, and she was as hauntingly beautiful as the first time he saw her in a window of the castle.
Distantly, he wondered if the calling he felt on the way here was the crystals or her? He liked to think the latter, despite the precarious nature of the daggers aimed at him. All through the forest he had thought he heard a distant rustling of steps but always ignored it to be one of the many sounds of the forest. Not even in his wildest dreams he had imagined her to be here, in the cave, not after what happened in their last meeting.
And at the same moment as him?
Prophecy or fate or mere coincidence; he couldn't be bothered with the reason.
A smile surprised him by coming on his lips.
He was still alive.
Although the crystal daggers were still no more than a few inches away from his face.
"Morgana," the name was like a breath on his lips, like the air he had been gasping for three years, and it was fulfilling him to just say it to her, to call her by it, to once again assure himself that he wasn't hallucinating.
She didn't say anything. Her eyes were still glowing, her hands still outstretched, her hair only just coming down to rest on her shoulders.
"It's me," he said as if that wasn't the sole reason of him standing against a hundred daggers.
Her eyes narrowed.
"I know," she said finally and her curt growl felt like music to his ears. "How did you find me?" She stepped closer, her fingers tightening as the daggers drew even nearer, "Were you following me?"
Her fury, oh, her fury. It was still there after three years. His joy deflated under it and his eyes grew sorrowful.
"No, Morgana, I wasn't following you. I didn't even know... I was just... I thought I saw you die and ... It wasn't you but I wanted to be sure... "
He saw her eyes widen, her rage forgotten. She looked perplexed. She cast her eyes around the cave as if seeking something, looking both lost and enlightened. And with the practiced ease of familiarity to her soul, that has reappeared the moment he saw her, like an old favorite sweater, warm and nostalgic, he knew.
"That's why you're here too," he exclaimed and swiped a careless hand, causing the icy daggers to shatter at his feet. He just wanted to see her clearly, "Did you see me die? Is that why you're here? To make sure I'm alive?"
She took a defensive step back at the ease with which he removed the crystals. Her hands fell at her sides, limp and empty of purpose and he could see in her eyes what he had seen countless times on his enemies' face; the realization of his true power. Only this time, he hated that look. It had made him feel invincible in the past but that was a lie. All that power and he couldn't undo his mistakes. All that magic and the past remains unchanged. All that knowledge and he hadn't figure out the repercussions of playing with fate. He was just a means to an end. Her end. And she was the last person he wanted to intimidate with his power now.
"Morgana?" He urged her in a soft whisper, taking a slow step forward.
"It would have been too easy a death for you if it wasn't at my hands! " She hissed through gritted teeth, bristled and adamant, and he knew she was once again putting walls between them at the display of the extent of his power. It had always infuriated her but he could do little to appease her when they had been trying to kill each other in the past life.
"I'm here now," he shrugged as he moved forward, to the right, and she mirrored his steps by moving in a circle to the left, always keeping the same distance between them, "Do it and I promise this time I won't use magic to stop it. "
"And I have so many reasons to trust you, now, don't I?" Sarcasm glinted off her every sharp word.
He couldn't come up with an answer. He didn't have anything to say to that. It was the truth. He had stopped running from the truth in the last year.
She stared hard at him for a moment longer, daring him to say something. He lowered his gaze in defeat. He expected her to leave. March out in anger. Blast him to the wall if he try to stop her. But she didn't. Moments stretched between them.
Finally, she turned on her heels, went to the nearest cave wall and sat against it. She didn't look at him or say anything. He observed her silently, picking details of her every gesture.
There was a curious quietness about the manner in which she tucked herself against the wall; a gathering of self in a sort of protective huddle. She had her knees close to her chest, her hands in her lap and her eyes staring down at them. She reminded him of a bird on the cover of the book he had read some years ago; a small, tucked in bird, a goldfinch, probably.
He sat down on the cave floor, his legs crossed, about twelve feet away from her. None of them had much to say after the initial outburst. He was too afraid to say something wrong that could anger her further. And she probably didn't want to talk with him. Yet she didn't leave and he took some solace in it. For the time being, he just breathed the sense of quiet warmth and familiarity her presence always hold for him. She traced the edges of a nearby crystal with her forefinger. He traced patterns in dirt by his feet.
A thought passed his mind, a fleeting tendril of a faint memory and he looked up with a start, as if remembering something, "So this is where it all began."
Her finger paused and she looked up at him in confusion, "What?"
"This place - Crystal Cave, it's the birth place of magic itself," he told, slightly enthusiastic.
She passed a weary glance over the glittering crystals, "Is it?"
"Taliesin told me," he replied, his own eyes roaming over the place. When he looked back at her, her raised eyebrows told him that she had no idea who was Taliesin. He smiled sheepishly, "He was a dead seer. Well, not entirely dead, since he came to meet me, but still pretty dead because he died a long time ago before meeting me." Her eyebrows went higher the more ridiculous his story became. He quickly tried to explain, "I mean, he was really dead but somehow he came to meet me because it was decided. He helped me when Arthur got injured in the Valley of the Fallen kings by bandits."
She nodded slightly, "Oh, right." Everything about her spoke of distance and wariness, a careful hold over her emotions. It frustrated him. He breathed deeply.
"There were rumors that the valley was cursed," he explained further. Anything to breach the distance between them.
A small smirk, almost impossible to notice, appeared on her face, "I would know if it were. I know all about curses."
And even though it was a reference to all the evil she had committed in her last life, the pain she had caused, the havoc she had wrecked, he could not help but smile. The next words that came out of his mouth were involuntary.
"I have missed you."
He should have regretted it but at this point he really was left with nothing to lose.
She looked up sharply, her blue gaze like icy daggers passing through him, "Which part? Poisoning me or killing me?" her tone was brittle and acidic. He did not take that bait.
"No, I missed you. You in this life. You the way you are now."
The sudden slip of her bitterness gave away her sincere shock at those words. She was so taken aback that he felt something twisting in his gut. She had thought that everything between them was gone, vanished because of their past.
And he could not blame her. Because for the longest time he had thought the same. Until now, until the moment he entered the cave and saw her and then it hadn't mattered. Nothing had. Their past, their mistakes, their destinies - all disappearing. He had felt the same leap of his heart when she turned to look at him as the one he had gotten when running into her all those years ago. The spark between them was still alive. She was still the one person capable of turning his world around. Years of emptiness, of escape from memories and the mere sight of her filled all the holes of his soul.
"I have missed you, too," her voice broke through his thoughts and he looked at her in surprise, "I had thought I wouldn't," she added quickly, almost as a cold afterthought, breaking free a smile from his lips at her reluctance.
"I hadn't thought anything," he replied, his eyes meeting hers in a poignant look, "I haven't been able to think much these past few years."
Her gaze was heavy on him, no doubt processing his every word, every look. He looked back calmly.
"I have thought a lot," she said after half a minute's silence.
"About what?"
She looked down, picking on a thread on her knee, "The past lives, mostly. But also about my time here at the college."
"Any good memories?" his voice was soft, a hint of a tender smile around his lips.
She looked back at him, her gaze heartless, "Not surprisingly most of them included you, so no."
He laughed out, his voice echoing in the huge cavern again and again. She looked unamused.
"Must be an inconvenience," he commented, unfazed by her glare.
"Yes, made me think if I had not met you on my first day then maybe I would have some friends whose past memories did not include killing me."
It felt like a blow to his stomach and his smile faltered for a second. But he gathered himself quickly enough.
"Of course, considering how great your social skills are," his playful sarcasm made her roll her eyes but she stayed silent, staring at one of the crystals by her knee, touching its sharp edge with her forefinger. He exhaled loudly. She was still pulled away, holding herself back from consciously trying to bridge the gap between them. Both physical and emotional. He could not blame her. She may be the murderer of many but she was not of him. It was the other way around for him. The few people whose thread of life was cut short because of him included her. How can one forget that?
"It's weird, don't you think?" he asked quietly after a moment of silence, "We could have reincarnated anywhere, gone anywhere, never had to meet each other. The Earth is so big. You could have gone to America to study Architecture. I could have gone to Asia to study History. We could have been reincarnated in two completely different times. But no. We had to go to this one college, in that same year."
"Destiny's fools," she muttered over a breathy whisper, shaking her head slightly, bitterness etched into each frown of her brow, and said no more. He stared at her for a moment. Her quiet dismissal hurt in odd ways.
"I have been fooled by destiny, over and over," he said after a long moment of haunting silence, dropping his gaze to his lap, "But this time . . . it's not the same."
"I don't care," she retorted, louder this time, her palms coming up to cover her eyes in an exhausted gesture, "Whatever the fates may choose, the sight of you will always bring back those memories. If I want to spend the rest of my life with some measure of sanity, I need to be away from you."
She raised her gaze to meet his and he saw the darkness ripping open in her eyes, her anger spilling over in desperation, her agitation visible in the hardened way she clenched her fists in her lap.
" Always?" he asked with not even a hint of hope.
"Always," her answering growl was suppressed and irritated.
He swallowed hard. Long ago, he had thought her eyes were the most alive and beautiful thing he would ever set his eyes upon. They had held all the fire and brightness of a warrior princess, all the rage of a supernova. And now . . . Still the most beautiful thing but more like a ruined castle. The tales of destruction and loss etched in the blues of water, threatening to drown anyone willing to look for more than a moment. And right now, they seemed to be crumbling with the weight of the centuries.
He swallowed again as he pushed himself to his feet, his eyes down cast. Everything seemed to have been scooped out of his chest, leaving it hollow and ringing with memories. He knew what he must do now. And just like many costly things in one's life, decisions - hard ones, especially - come with a price. Some cost you your pride. Others your heart. This one cost him the heaviest price of all; his soul.
"If that's what you want," he murmured, only loud enough for her to hear. He felt her gaze drawn upwards with him, still staring. Her hands stilled on her lap, relaxing into loose half curl of her fingers. Her taut body sagged against the crystals at her back.
Gulping down the thick, black disappointment from unknown expectations, he went for the small dark entrance of the cave. Each step was harder than the previous one and his mind started thinking of the life outside the cave, outside this valley, a life without her. He knew he should have expected that, should have known the true extent of his crimes in the past life. But he had assumed - hoped, actually - that maybe for once he would not be defined by his actions in that past. But now that he think of it, it was only fair that she did not agree. All the choices he made in that life, the wrong ones, the right ones, were his conscious decisions, each step taken on his own will. From helping Mordred to killing her. And everything in between. A labyrinth of turns and choices and he made all of them, hoping for a glorious destiny awaiting him at the end. A dead friend and a sword through the body of the girl he once cherished.
What a fool he had been!
Feeling the stinging of tears in his eyes, he turned to look at her one last time, to take the image of her with him to last him a lifetime's worth of guilt and regrets. She was staring at him, her lips pursed, her shoulders sagged. Her eyes shone with the hardened brilliance of the blues, competing against the rigid planes of the crystals surrounding her. She blinked and something shifted, a glimmer of emotion, a hint of something treacherous. He faltered in his steps for in her eyes he saw the unspoken shout to stop him. A name dead on her lips.
He stopped.
"Do you think it will be the better of two choices, Morgana?" he spoke her name like a dead man's prayer; desperate and still hoping for a miracle.
And then he waited.
x-x-x
She kept her eyes fixed on him as he asked the question.
Do you think it will be the better of two choices, Morgana?
Well, what did she know?
All the decisions she made, all the blood shed and life loss, all the steps she took to carefully rip off her humanity with the blade of vengeance - what did she know of the right choices?
And every time she looked at him, she felt the burning in her throat, the blade in her body and she wanted nothing less than to use all the spells of her knowledge to throw him against these crystals, skewer him through, make him bleed for all his sins.
But then wasn't that was what he had been trying to accomplish with her in that past life? And look how well that ended. With no one the winner, no one left to claim victory. Her brother died. She died. The child she loved died. Her sister, her father. And even though the losses were distributed, in the end they all were truly hers only. Her father. Her brother. Her sister. Her beloved boy. Herself. She had been waging war against a part of herself all that time. She were to lose either way. He only had to put a sword through to bring a quick end to it.
And now he stood there, with her name like a plea on his lips, and she could not tell him yes. She could not let him go. Because what else was left to her? What else mattered as much as he did? Who else would want to stay with her after knowing her history of murders and wars? And if this was another - however different - kind of war, to let him stay and alive, to separate her rage with him from another leaping feeling of her heart, then she was determined to win it.
But of course she could not say it plainly.
"Tell me, Merlin," she began sardonically, "Have you ever made your own choices? Or has it always been the dragon or Gaius?"
He turned around fully, a tired protest reflected in his eyes, "Do you really want to start this?"
Her gaze hardened, "I never got the answers I deserved."
He sighed wistfully, "We should not . . . not again. Not after all this time."
"Merlin," her voice softened, turned into a request, "I deserve to know."
"Morgana," he said pleadingly, taking a hesitant step towards her, insisting, "It is not a good idea. Please. It never . . . It always make things worse for us."
She didn't blink, inviting him to realize the extent of her reason.
"I need to know how you made those decisions, Merlin, what made it so easy for you."
He shook his head tightly, unable to refuse yet reluctant to oblige. She waited.
Finally, he exhaled loudly and rushed towards her with hurried steps. Her stomach flipped in anticipation and she sat up straight defensively. He sank down in front of her on the floor, mimicking her posture, so close that their knees touch. She knew she was supposed to feel uneasy, supposed to seek personal space but it felt too much like retreating. And that was something she was incapable of doing.
"I will not . . . tell you, per se. I will . . . Let me show you," he murmured, sounding as unsure as she felt. His one hand reached up towards her face. She flinched back. He stopped.
"Morgana, I will not hurt you," he said softly and she could see the reflection of her disbelief at those words in his eyes.
"A bit hard to believe, no?"
His eyes lowered for a brief moment, not questioning her distrust, before coming back up again. She quirked one eyebrow inquisitively.
"It's the only way I can even begin to hope that you will understand," he said tiredly, "It's the only way you can get your answers."
She stared at him sternly, her eyes judging his words for truth. Finally she gave a slight nod.
Pursing his lips, he reached forward again and placed a gentle hand at the curve of her neck, over her curls. He pushed her forward slowly and she felt queasy with the lack of knowledge but didn't resist. Neither did she miss the slightest flicker of his gaze towards her lips before coming back to her eyes. If it were not for their uncanny ability to see through the other, she would have missed it entirely. He leaned forward to meet her halfway, until her forehead was intact against the messy hair of his, pressing them flat between the two heads.
"Now what?" she spoke over the thudding sound of her heart in her ears. She had to break the silence to recover from the unexpected closeness. It felt surreal, fleeting. Especially since moments earlier he was at the other end of the cavern, on the verge of leaving. She began to wonder if she had made a mistake, It was suddenly too fast, too foreign for her.
"Close your eyes," he whispered in the small bit of infinity between them and she followed only after he did, "And concentrate on the memories you want to see from my perspective."
Her eyes opened hesitantly, taking in the sight of his closed eyes and all the faintest nerves etched on his eyelids before speaking up, "Do you think it will work?"
He opened his eyes and she saw the well hidden jolt of surprise he felt to find her eyes open. He chuckled hoarsely, "We are in the Crystal Cave. Everything is possible."
He closed his eyes again and she followed with only a moment's hesitation.
Unbeknownst to them, the cavern lit up with the light of thousands of crystals and the connection between two magical beings, the thread connecting one mind to another, the voice able to speak in another's mind, exploded. The invisible thread widened to become a path so that not only the thoughts of present but that of the past were laid bare for her to see. She felt his hand tightening on the side of her neck, his body slightly shaking with the strain of her invasion and she softened her own steps in his thoughts until she was barely touching each of them instead of tearing through. She felt his gratitude as he sighed and his grip became a gentle touch now, fingers threading through her hair.
I am not going to hurt you, she repeated his promise, let her thought flutter among his own to be acknowledged by him and in response his hand nudged her slightly closer, trusting, making himself vulnerable at her hands.
She concentrated on the events now, those belonging to both of their memories and then those privy to him only. There was one thing of utmost importance to her that she needed to know. One of his earlier memories of Camelot. She let herself fall freely through the later memories, drifting, sinking, until she reached that point in his life.
The night he was supposed to save the child she loved.
And she felt all that he had felt.
Helplessness. Distress. Anger at the unfairness of the events. And guilt. Too much guilt. And then some more.
And underlying all of those emotions was a fearful ambition. A blind desperation akin only to a boy of a small village coming to the knowledge that he was the center of centuries old prophecy. The great savior. And he was grasping at the straws. The straws that led him to an underground prison of the Great Dragon. She felt his relief of realizing that he will do what he was supposed to do by asking for dragon's advice at each step. It knows all the prophecies. All the history and future of magic. A magical being just like him. She felt the misplaced yet unwavering trust of a young boy in the ancient beast's judgement. She realized the weight of the wretched destiny haunting his days and nights, the fear of failure always lurking at the corner, the despair of the inaccurate knowledge that it was all upto him. A boy dwarfed by his own fate.
And yet he did let the child escape.
She stepped deeper into his heart that went with the decision. There was pity for the child, sense of kindness he could not ignore and a conscience that would not stay silent. Not this early on his path of destruction and wrong choices.
And something else. Something about how the child's death would devastate her. His failure to disappoint her when she boldly claimed to trust him in front of the prince. His admiration about all that she had done for the boy he was supposed to be protecting.
And the prophecy that spoke of an alliance, casting a shadow over all her love for the child. That was the one thing that made her fearful and angry.
Did she love the child because of the prophecy? Or was it her own heart and mind?
She realized the paradox.
Everything the Great Dragon advised him to do only fueled the becoming of prophecy. He never trusted Mordred because of the prophecy and that eventually became the reason of Mordred forming an alliance with her. He tried to kill her by poisoning her and only made sure that she would turn against Arthur and Camelot. She killed Uther, paved way for Arthur to take the throne and unite Albion.
The prophecy was a self fulfilling one.
She could not separate if the events in that life happened because they were in the prophecy or whether the prophecy was made knowing it would happen.
A complete circle. They have been going in an unavoidable circle of fate in their past lives.
And there was no way out. No avoiding the prophecy. It would have come true because he was always going to save the dragon egg whose fire would make sure that Arthur was dead. He was always going to hide his magic from her because he was always advised to keep it a secret and he was always going to be haunted by the fear of failure of prophecy.
All of them really were the fools of destiny. Playthings of fate.
The realization untied a knot in her stomach.
Because where everyone else had died and became history, her and him still got this bit of life handed to them, with no prophecy directing their actions, with no predetermined fate awaiting them. Her and him still got infinite possibilities to live in the little impossibility that their lives were.
They were reincarnated.
To do as they please.
She was suddenly very aware of his hand on the crook of her neck, his breath mingling with hers, the boy who poisoned her, the boy who killed her, waiting for her decision.
She slowly pulled back from his memories, retreating on the path between their thoughts, the path that was bright and clear and so very important to her now.
She felt his low exhale as she stepped out of his thoughts.
He opened his eyes with a gasp, clenched them close again for a moment as he took huge gulps of air, then opened them again to stare down at their joined knees. She stared at him, feeling the slide of his fingers loosing grip on her neck and settling down on her shoulder, still somewhat tangled in her curls. She pulled back slightly, no longer as close as before yet not too far. Her gaze remained glued to his face, lingering on the slight sheen of sweat on his brow where she had touched him, on his lowered gaze, on the paleness of his color.
As seconds stretched and he still avoided her gaze, she realized something. He was scared. Of getting the answer. Of being rejected. He was holding on to this moment of silent nearness as their last moment. A heavy sadness fell over her shoulders, sagging her body down with the weight.
"Are you . . . scared of me?" she asked, the promise of a smile appearing at the end of the question.
His breathless chuckle filled the space between them, "Terrified," he said in a whisper. She gave a short laugh.
She moved away from him, on her hands and knees, backward until her back leaned against the sharp edge of a huge crystal and his hand fell limply in his lap. When she next spoke, her words were soaked with sorrow.
"I don't know anything about anything anymore," she whispered and felt the tears rising in her throat. She gulped heavily.
He looked up at last, his eyes pained, "I'm not sure I do either."
She took in a shaky breath and buried down the surge of emotions, Her face smoothed back to impassive coldness. She stared down at the gritty ground around him, aware of his flickering glances towards her. Trying not to look but wanting to look.
"You certainly put a lot of faith in the Great Dragon," she finally accused him of his only fault. The fault that gave birth to all the other faults.
He shook his head slightly, trying to dissipate the argument he feared would occur because of his answer.
"No, tell me," she insisted, "I have seen your mind. Tell me."
He looked at her, his eyes slowly searching through her soul, and she saw a tragic life's shadows there, a life tinged with impossible decisions at each step,"If you know my mind, you know why I did what I did."
She lifted her chin slightly, staring impassively, "Humor me."
He gave a tired chuckle and looked away, staring into the crystals now dimmed into slight shimmering. She saw a murky streak of water down his face, dried up from few minutes ago.
Was he in pain, she wondered, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"A village boy coming to a great kingdom," he began slowly, "Foolish and impulsive. With a terrible secret to hide. Always looking over his shoulder, always near bursting from inside with power yet somehow keeping it all in," he closed his eyes for a brief moment, "And then he finds out he was the centre of an ancient prophecy, with the lives of many people awaiting to be saved. Can you really blame him for grabbing onto the closest straw? The wrong straw, yes, but he was hesitant to let go. Who else would tell him what to do?"
"You should have learned to know better," she said, shaking her head. She had seen it all; the fear, the crippling anxiety to get it right, the blindness over what to do, whom to save, whom to let perish . . . whom to kill. But it still hurt . . . the choice he made for her. The wound might never fade.
"I did. But it was too late by then," he rubbed his eyes, "That's when I realized that all I did to avert the prophecy . . . all the choices I made, every single one of them, they all led to the same conclusion. They always would have."
"When did you realize that?" she asked quietly, her eyes unable to witness his misery, the guilt of centuries pulling him down.
He looked up at her and his eyes were red shot, "When I found out that the sword that killed Arthur was forged in Aithusa's fire. A dragon saved by me and predicted by Kilgarrah to bring good fortune to Albion. But it was just a tool. Like me and you. To fulfill the destiny. Death for Arthur."
"And Mordred," she added, and their eyes met, "It's just you and me now."
They saw the time exploding between them to all the times their eyes met, to all the meaningful looks and slight glances. She saw him standing in the crowd at an execution, looking up at her. The first of the firsts. Time ran in leaps and bounds, shrinking the distances between the centuries. She saw him coming down the college stairs and their eyes meeting. The first of the seconds. The flawless accuracy of gaze, unaffected by distance - or time.
"It's just you and me," he echoed hoarsely.
"But . . ." she shifted forwards, suddenly scared. It felt too easy, too smooth. She was not sure she deserved it. The guilt was heavy on her shoulders, her hands stained with the blood of innocents. It all began with him, but she had an equal blame in the way it ended.
"But I am a murderer," she whispered the confession, her eyes lowered to her hands, "I have played with so many lives."
"As I have with fate," he added softly.
"Then why?" she spread her hands wide, looking in frustration at the crystals that taunted her with the promise of half truths, "Why are we reincarnated? Why a second chance?" her voice echoed strangely in the cavern, the overlapping whispers sounding nothing like her.
"Didn't you see the reason yet?" his hushed voice dragged her eyes back to him, "It's still the prophecy. It always have been. All along."
She stared at him, baffled, the truth like a metallic fist to her stomach, "You are my doom. You are my destiny," she choked out.
"Our futures are joined forever," he stated the Great Dragon.
She shook her head, not understanding entirely, "I don't . . . I don't understand it."
She dragged her fingers through her hair, clutching the strands in frustrated grip. The same haunting misery that had reflected in her eyes in the early days of college has returned. She stared at the crystals, at their eerie glow reflecting off the cavern's walls, coloring the entire place in a bluish hue. The centuries old place that had ripped through the barriers of her mind to bring out the memories of her past self. The place where she once held a dagger to his throat. The place where she gloated at his helplessness after taking away his essence - his magic. The place where she left him trapped because after all he did to her, she could not find it in herself to kill him. Arthur's manservant. Balinor's son. But what was he to her?
Her doom.
He had already brought an end to her and all she had loved.
Her destiny.
That has yet to happen.
She raised hesitant eyes to his face and found him staring at her, his lips slightly parted in anticipation, his eyes wide and so incredibly blue and she saw the furious struggle of hope and despair in them. It made it so much easier. Shamefully easier. To remember him from this life only. To remember him only as the person coming to her on the stairs. To remember him sensing her presence in a room full of people. To remember his hesitant words and shy glances as he stumbled over his words, trying to tell her the truth yet hiding it at the same time. To remember his drunken confessions and the soft feel of his lips on her cheek. As the person who felt her anguish from miles away and came for her. He made her feel all that she had been sure she would never know. She had been always so sure that she will never find anyone like herself, anyone to share the unknown burden of misery with. A burden that was no longer unknown. And yet here he was, in a cave thousands of years old, mere feets away and staring at her like she was a lost person's oasis in dry, hot desert. Like his soul has been stolen by her and he was waiting for her to show it to him. It was so easy to forget the lives they led centuries earlier, lives full of hate and twisted fates and wrong decisions on every step.
"What are you thinking?" his cracked whisper broke through her thoughts.
She pulled her fingers out of her tangled curls, straightening her back and nothing felt quite so lost anymore.
x-x-x
It was like time itself hung from the moment.
Peering, staring - cautiously and anxiously.
He wondered for the entirety of an empty second of the great what if that loomed above their heads in that glowing cavern. What if she rejected him, like he did her the truth in their past lives? What if his sins against her were too many and too heavy on her beaten soul and she could not forgive him? What if he was left with nothing more than the guilt of the past life and bitter sweetness of this one?
What if, once again, the prophecy is left unfulfilled - or at least the part concerning them?
Will they be reincarnated once again? Given another chance? Will he meet her like a stranger once more, in some other city a century later? Will they always come together to be in each other's life no matter the circumstances? Will they stand a better chance at being together than him and her right now?
And he was not sure he wanted to know the answer. He was not sure he even wanted to think it was possible because him, here, in this life, and her, in front of him, is all he wanted to know and live out. No other him in no other life with no other her could equal the moment of this life, could compensate for the anguish he would feel if she decided against him.
"I will never forget this," her words sank his heart faster than a blink. His throat went dry. "Remember? I said this to you when you tried to help me escape with the druids?"
His stolen breath came back to him, "I failed that day."
"But you tried."
"It was my fault. They followed my tracks to the camp," as much as he wanted to know the answer, putting away that moment of truth felt too easy. Because if she chose otherwise, he wanted this waiting to be as long as possible.
"Yes, but if I were caught that day living at such ease with the druids, Uther would have considered it treason," she stared thoughtfully at the closest crystal, "I forgot you saved me that day. Until now."
"For all the times I betrayed you and could not save you, I -"
"Could not or would not?" her calm question broke his heart. Sudden, unexpected tears stung at the edge of his tired eyes as he tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. To think that she thought he did all that willingly, that he would harm her if his frustrated, narrow mind could think of an alternate - it was a new low for him in her eyes.
When he next spoke, his voice was shaking and wavering with emotion, "Everytime I lied to you - tried to hurt you - I - I always hated this destiny that placed me against you," he placed the heels of his hands over his eyes to staunch the threat of tears, "When the dragon first told me about you going against Arthur, I tried telling him that you are good at heart. If there was ever a different way for me to see things, Morgana, if my head was not so full of warnings and threats and fear of failure - Morgana, I - I - I am so sorry for what I did, for what I made you into. But you must know that - that when it came to you, there was no would not. If someone had shown me a way to help you fight your destiny, I would have. To have you on my side, or to have both our sides destined for a common goal -" he gasped with the effort to speak through a throat full of tears, "It was never 'would not', not for you. It was always and ever 'could not'. I could not think of a way to save you. I could not stop myself fearing the failure of my destiny if I told you about my magic. I could not - I could not -" tears fell freely now and he just hid his head in his arms, "I could not find a way to stop the spell other than poisoning you. I know, now, that I should have asked you but then - in that time, with the dragon's words still fresh in my mind, I could not hope to have an honest answer. I could not think that I even deserved an honest answer. And I - I just - I'm just so sorry for everything and every time I hurt you." He realized then that he never apologized to her for what he did. Not in their past lives. Not in this one. Not until now. He had confessed to his mistakes as he drove the sword through her. He had tried to reason his every wrong move with the advice of Gaius or the dragon in this same cave two years ago.
But he had never, not once, truly apologized for the wrong he had done her.
And it lifted a weight from his heart. He felt ready to face her decision, come what may.
"In life we always have a choice," her soft whisper stilled his heart with its nearness, he could feel her fingers touching his hair, "Sometimes it's easier to think we don't."
He looked up to find her standing close to him, her hand outstretched towards him. His heart beat louder in his ears as he dared to hope. Blinking out tears to see her clearly, he placed his hand in hers, fingers tangling clumsily and then more firmly. She pulled him up and he helped her.
"Three years ago, I didn't think I had a choice," she spoke so quietly that each word covered only the space separating them, which was not much, "And three years later, I know my choices and I know the one I have to make. Not for the goodness of my heart or anything," she chuckled and he saw color rising in her face and he felt sure it was not merely a shadow of her downcast eyes, "But maybe running from destiny is not such a good idea after all."
x-x-x
"But maybe running from destiny is not such a good idea after all," she didn't know how she said those words and how many old wounds clawed her inside to stop her from speaking them, and she didn't get a chance to find an answer either. For barely a skipped breath later of saying them aloud, she was listening to the wild drum beat that was his heart.
Oh.
Other details registered a moment later; like his arms that encircled her or her face against his chest or the sheer force of the embrace. Every one of them spoke volumes of his relief with her choice.
Of course, she took too long reading him and even as her arms started to leave her sides to return the gesture, he was moving away, his hands coming to rest heavy on her shoulders, the same play of hesitant and hopeful and unsure and anxious back on his face.
Just like he looked at her on their first day and the second day and so many days afterwards of meeting each other in this life.
God, how she had missed that face.
His gaze was both uncertain and hopeful as he took in her face, his eyes dark and soft, reading her expressions, and she saw the fear of being wrong so clear in his own.
"By following the destiny - when you said that - you meant -? Did you -? Were you -?" he could not form a coherent sentence and it made her itch to play a little longer, the sharp, jagged sense of humor still there, centuries later.
"Oh, I was thinking of completing my Masters in Architecture. It's high time I finish what I started."
Whether it was her dismissive tone or his disbelief on his own luck, he kept staring at her with the same puzzling and hopeful gaze. She sighed.
"And since you reminded me so kindly of my lack of acquaintances in this place, I can use your company."
She saw the rolling out of the moment the confirmation sank in played in his eyes. She saw how his eyes became wide as he sucked in a deep breath and let out a gasp of a laugh. There was such innocent and adorable spontaneity in his wide smile, crinkling the edges of his eyes, his face ardent flushed with color, that more and more she wanted to hold onto the memories of this lifetime only. Two strangers coming together to mean something to each other. Yes, let that be the summary of their lives. No reincarnation and nightmares and memories and betrayal. No kings and battles and destiny and mortal enemies. Just plain him and her. Living out a plain college life in twentieth century. And despite all the bitterness of this life, all the sorrows and strangeness of her own self that isoated her from the rest, she knew she wanted it. Not by herself, no, but with him - maybe. He had her heart stolen centuries ago and once more in this lifetime …. How can she fight it any longer?
She reached out, her palms flat against his chest as she stared at her reflection in his eyes. His laughter vanished, his breath turning shallow.
A low rumble erupted deep in the belly of the cave and they both jumped. The entire cavern started shaking and he pulled her against him instinctively. They thought they heard distant sounds of glass breaking over the commotion of the ground shaking and soon realized what was happening as a crystal near them exploded with a loud noise.
They both turned into each other, covering their faces as all around them the cave began to collapse and the crystals started shattering, filling the air with unimaginable amount of flying shrapnel.
x-x-x
He knew what was happening, it was to be anticipated. They should have left the cave sooner but his mind wasn't thinking about it earlier. He tried to cover them both with his coat until his brain screamed at his stupidity. A moment later he conjured a shield around them, a rippling force field of magic that also separated them from the shaking floor, and sighed in relief as he saw crystal shards flying off it.
"It's alright," he shouted at her over the sounds of explosion and rumbling.
She looked up from his coat, one hand covering her ear, the other tightly holding onto him, and looked around. Her eyes took the shield in, tracing it's surface with her gaze and then went past it to the mayhem outside of it, "What's going on? "
"The cave," he spoke close to her ear, "It's destroying itself."
She looked at him aghast, " Why?"
He smiled, "The prophecy. It's fulfilled."
Her mouth opened slightly in surprise but she didn't say anything. Instead she turned to look at the explosions, which from the safety of the shield, looked rather beautiful. A slow smile appeared on her lips.
His eyes couldn't look anywhere but at her. She was still somewhat huddled against him, her eyes wide with the sight of crystals exploding, her face soft with smile. His heart ached like a bruise and he felt a bursting need.
Without thinking about it, his hand moved forward, cupping the side of her face and gently turning it towards him. She looked at him, her smile melting away, her face leaning into his hand.
He took it as a sign of her will. He leaned forward to touch his forehead against hers once more, his eyes closing with the relief of the moment. It felt like a long lasting pain finally ebbing away, replaced by sweet, sweet pleasure of fulfilment.
"Morgana," he whispered against her skin, his other hand tangling in her curls.
Her palm came to rest against his neck, her other hand sliding up to his shoulders as she shivered under his touch. "Merlin," she called back, somehow loud enough to be heard over all the commotion.
The words would explode his heart of they never come out and he couldn't bear to wait anymore.
"I have fallen in love with you thousands of years ago and I've fallen for you again in this life," he was surprised at his own boldness but it felt like the end of the world with the earth shattering around them and it made him oddly brave, "I can't live without you anymore."
He could feel the wetness of her cheek under his fingertips as their noses skimmed together, "Merlin," she gasped out, "I can't live without you either."
Taking in a staggering breath, he closed the distance between them as finally, finally, their lips met. It was a long wait, thousands of years of wait, to satisfy a yearning that was there from the first glance, but it was worth it. The crystals showered in blue sparkling dust as their bodies melt into each other. The cavern collapsed in on itself, huge chunks of roof bouncing off the shield, giving way to the daylight to illuminate them.
As they broke away from each other, still entwined, he let the shield carry them away from the falling debris. They landed outside the entrance, watching with mixed feelings of sadness and satisfaction, as the entire place buried itself and any last twinkle of the bursting crystals vanished beneath the rubble .
The Crystal Cave was no more.
The nightmares were no more.
The flashbacks were no more.
x-x-x
A/N: Hi. It's me. And this time I'm finally giving you guys the ending. Please let me know what you think of it. Was it how you imagined it to be? It took a lot of effort to satisfy both character arcs and I hope I delivered it realistically. They are such beautiful characters with such unfair storylines. Justification was hard earned. And in the end it probably was never fully justified.
But maybe that's the point. Maybe they can never justify their actions but can only move forward. I hope that's what I accomplished.
Anyway, the hardest and longest story to write for me. Do review please!