Disclaimer
I own nothing of the following, save some events and locations… some. Almost nothing…
I apologize for my time off. Again. Sorry. To be honest these filler chapters are dull to write...
But surprise! Am alive. I definitely am. Surprised I mean. And alive too. Surprise! Or maybe this chapter comes to you beyond the graaaaave… wouldn't be the weirdest thing a cemetery spat out.
Some witches have had chains put around their grave. Then there's the Black Angel in Iowa touching it means a certain death... or so they say. Kiss her lips, I dare you. Or better not if you aren't, you know, done living. Or do if you like to live Dangerously.
If any of you have seen or better yet touched (and lived!) her dark holiness give me a holler in your comments below...
Chapter 10: Of Old Things
September 2nd, 1991 6:23
When Merlin woke up, he could practically sense the excitement, he couldn't blame the children for being excited. First classes and all... He was a little less than excited, in fact, he was a little less than panicking... or he simply was that.
Yes. Merlin was on the verge of a panic attack.
It was not worry for himself that threatened to swallow him, no. In fact it was a little comfort to have double potions with the Gryffindors... he'd at least be present, because something about that irked him.
Gryffindors and Slytherins. Potions. Morgana. Severus Snape. It smelled like a bomb in the making.
He was twitchy, thinking, what would Morgana actually do...? She wouldn't bury the hatchet with Snape unless burying it deep in Snape's skull was an option. If he knew Morgana, and he did, she was gonna do something spectacular. Only the worst for her grudges, and Merlin found himself filled him with dread.
Morgana's definition of spectacular often included blood or fire, or blood and fire. If it was History of Magic or Muggle Studies he'd be far less concerned... but it was potions...
Potions and Morgana, that was already a spectacular combination. The priestess was the most talented, most dangerous, most skilled potioneer and herbologist the last Millenia had seen, or at least that he had during it, her potions were legendary... She had received training for her Priesthood but that was only the astonishing base for her knowledge, Morgana had a thousand years of knowledge and experience; knew every weakness and every strength of every ingredient from the hot blossoms of Istanbul, to the strange spices of China; and back. Her skill was enormous, far beyond his.
Given any ingredient, any recipe, any mixture. She knew the exact ingredient, that would then make it blow up. Make it burn. Turn into a Afanc like monster. Or make it poisonous. The possibilities of disaster were endless...
And like all times Morgana was involved, he was very, very concerned... If Morgana set a fire, it was he who was supposed to play Vigile*(1) and turn it off. So, how to stop her from lighting up Snape like a wax candle? He didn't know... Dwelling in his problem would do him no good, neither staying in bed, he stood up, turning to the right expecting to see Draco there, stone cold asleep. But he wasn't... he turned around; it was early, really early, the sun had just risen... and he was the last to wake up... that…
Well, that made no sense.
Not at all. Draco and et al, should be snoring and kicking in bed.
He walked up and grabbed the nearest robe, putting it over his sleeping clothes. Walking out of the room to catch a voice, "...a clear Gryffindor was sorted into Slytherin?" A cold serious tone was saying, male, he sounded older, a fifth year minimum. Merlin silently shuffled to edge of the door, endeavoring to remain unseen. Unless the hat had had a strange change of heart overnight and only Merlin had not been told, and Harry or Ron been sent to join the snakes; the clear Gryffindor. The outcast. Was Merlin himself.
"I have no idea." Another voice snarled; this one Merlin knew. "Why don't you ask the hat?" Malfoy drawled sarcastically. Merlin could not tell whether Draco was defending or attacking his presence in Slytherin house, could be either. He could also be far too bored to care.
"Half-Blood. Dumbledore sympathizer. Ambrose." A young female voice said harshly. "He doesn't belong here..." Merlin chortled. That wasn't her decision, the hat made no mistakes. Not anymore, at least.
Daphne Greengrass' calm, silky voice joined the others. "You go tell him that, Bullstrode." Bullstrode, Millicent, of course... he knew he didn't like her at the feast. "Doesn't your father work in the Ministry? Sounds like a letter to Fudge from Myredero and he'll be looking for another job..." Merlin smiled grimly, that was not a bad idea, maybe he'd do it anyway. He liked Daphne, she reminded him of Morgana back when she was a ward, proper but playful. Intelligent too.
"You are to take care of him, Draco." The male voice sounded again. Take care of him? Merlin seethed, so he'd be to be trained as a pup? Re-education? Was he to become a Death Eater Jr. ? To support the rising Dark Lord and giggle maniacally every time the Dark Arts was mentioned. To dress in black? Oh no, no, no he couldn't possibly, Morgana would have him assassinated if he took her preferred color palette for his own.
"So what?" Draco's voice poured sarcasm from every word. "Am supposed to kept him fed? Pour him water? Make sure he does his necessities outside?" He didn't seem to take the speaker very seriously, and by the way he hears teeth clench the Fifth year knew this.
"No. You're supposed to remind him his place. His loyalties." Merlin was tempted to turn the speaker into that book Morgana wanted him to deliver and give it to her instead... She would do far less damage with a fake and that idiot wouldn't bother him again, it was win-win.
Draco laughed, but it was mirthless. Merlin could feel his anger, even from a distance. "You won't find that easy, Gruasame. He is an Ambrose." Gruasame, that sounded familiar. Killed, or otherwise horribly maimed - familiar. Had he killed a Gruasame lately? Or had Morgana? It wouldn't be a first time him reaping what she had sowed. Wouldn't be the last either.
"Deal with it, Malfoy. Or daddy gets a letter..." The door shut.
There was a swish and something clanged against a wall. Oh, great, Merlin thought, another thrower. Memories of him dodging Arthur's pillows and half-drunk chalices, rushed to his head and he sighed. Add to the list of things Arthur and Draco had in common... it was getting extensive... "Fucking Stephen Gruasame!" Draco's voice rang out in a roar. "Who the hell does he think he is? Head boy or not, he's got no right to drag me into this!" An object, metal, hit the wall next to Merlin who jumped back; he had to swallow a startled gasp. The plate rattled against the floor.
Merlin rolled his eyes, Why did every charge of Merlin's had to have a tendency to throw metal kitchenware? Every single one – not fair. "Why care that he might send a letter?" Daphne offered. Voice calm. "Everyone knows the Grruasame are a bunch of pushovers..."
"Not him, his mother. My father gets wind that things have gone sour with the Ambrose family because of me and I might find myself disinherited!" He roared. Hitting something, objects falling to the floor... "Blasted Martin Ambrose!" So, he hit too... great. Uther used to do that, even as a ghost. If Merlin thought he could feel the extent of Draco's anger before, he now realized he was mistaken. More than Arthur, Draco had anger issues. He reminded him more of Uther that he did of Arthur, that was a sobering thought.
"Martin could say it himself." Daphne said, "He doesn't seem like the daunted type."
Draco scoffed. "He won't. Martin has no interest in money... rich bastard." Merlin scowled. That was accurate but for all the wrong reasons. He wasn't spoiled, he just knew there was more in life than wealth.
There was a chuckle. "Maybe I could take care of him..." Zabini. Merlin scowled. He had thought Zabini wasn't half-bad, first impressions were always misleading. Specially with Slytherins. "Make sure Ambrose understands his place..."
Merlin was tempted to walk into the light and hex Zabini, something nasty, out of the Priestess's repertoire. If that boy tried anything to make Merlin see his 'place', the Warlock would cast something that even Morgana would disapprove... Draco showed up at the edge of Merlin's vision, pacing. He then sighed, and nodded. Merlin's heart filled with disappointment and frustration… so that's how thing are gonna go, huh, Draco?
"Are you sure you want to do this? To him?" Daphne said, "Perhaps we should be less aggressive about this... he is an Ambrose, that alone carries power." Trust a Greengrass to be cautious. Merlin waited, this was a good test of deepness for Draco's animosity. He was ready to throw him into Blaise Zabini's cauldron. But was that all?
"She is right, Draco." A voice, silent and cautious, joined the rest. Nott. "You don't wanna alienate an Ambrose..." Merlin almost smiled, perhaps Myredero would go to Theo's father for a business deal, just to spite Draco and Lucius. Though he liked Mr. Nott like he liked Vampires, less every time he heard something related to either.
Draco sighed. "He should be a Slytherin first."
Greengrass groaned, "Not you too, Draco. Can't you hide your animosity, just a tad?" She said, she opened her hands... a person who spoke with her hand as well as her tongue, huh? Merlin thought. Morgana would like this girl.
"Animosity? Head Boy is right, we can't have a interloper in our lot." He snorted and turned away. She sighed. Merlin bit his lip to avoid blasting them all to the Cailleach.
"All I'm saying is that we know everyone here. Everyone in Slytherin. We all know what each other are capable of." She walked to Draco, appearing in Merlin's periphery. "We don't know Ambrose... You don't wanna mess with a Slytherin, we know that." She indicated to herself and the rest of those who remained, Merlin could feel Nott, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle. "We snakes are not to meddled with, and ask Stephen's uncle what happens when you mess with an Ambrose..." Merlin frowned. Was it he or Morgana who hurt that Snake's uncle? "Martin's a snake," She said, Draco snorted, "He is a snake." She said again, daring him to challenge the statement.
Draco just rolled his eyes, so Daphne nodded. Yep. Morgana would like this one, Merlin thought. "We don't know how poisonous he could be... if you try to 'handle him', and he bites you..." Very Likely. Merlin scowled.
"Damn, Greengrass. We are not gonna kill him!" Blaise said, laughing derisively. "Just explain how things work..." Merlin hissed. Enough.
"Actions have consequences, Zabini." He heard Daphne reproach, "Slytherin's are supposed to be cunning..." He was tempted to come out and reproach their ignorance and narcissism. But he had enough of snakes and he had to keep his mouth shut, be subtle about it. Morgana was the choleric one... he had to be the subtle one. It was the Priestess, not him, who turned people into woodlands creatures, mirrors and fine wooden ornaments.
So he turned around, tuning Daphne out.
Merlin walked back to the room, grabbed his clothing, his wand... and approached the boy's shared shower. He locked his stall, and let the water flow over him. Musing what he had heard.
Slytherin was divided... and it frustrated him to no end. He had somehow alienated his entire house - he expected it to happen anyway, can't make a pie without cooking the apples; he didn't expect to happen in one day!
Snakes really worked fast. Part of him wished they actually were snakes, then he could command them to be nice and kind, and half his job would be done... he had promised to himself he would turn Draco into something nasty.
And snakes were not nasty. Only these were… sometimes he wished Salazar had gone with something else to represent his house, he definitely made snakes gather this ugly reputation when they didn't deserve it. Slytherin had nearly chosen spiders. If only Morgana had not been Arachnophobic about that. Well, too bad.
But those were concerns for another day... now he had to figure out how to stop Morgana from skinning the potions professor alive. Snape's prospects for surviving to teach another day didn't look good. "Ambrose! Hurry up!" Merlin scowled.
"Why are you annoying me now, Zabini?" He grumbled, annoyed.
"It's Malfoy, you idiot. Get a move on! Slytherin house is going to the Main Hall together." Draco banged on the door… "Turn that water off!" He snarled. Merlin groaned,
Goddess help him not to turn Malfoy into a fern…
Morgana's birthday was coming up.
Though she loathed to admit it, Morgana would have to talk to Merlin...
Overwhelming visions were a thing of the past, or so she had thought. Merlin had conveniently forgotten her vision in the Hogwarts Express, or maybe he was being distant on the matter, giving her space...
Normally she'd leave it like that, let sleeping Warlocks lie, but after Merlin and her had finished their 'scheming'. It had taken about an hour for her to return to her body, the spell had the wrong nuance, it seemed, so she floated over her sleeping body again and again. Then she figured to just use it while she could, she went around Hogwarts inspecting wards and making sure her Cursed Vaults were inaccessible at the moment.
She had moved around the Forbidden Forest, seen the Centaurs and taken note where they were at the moment, nomadic as they were it'd be easier to find them later on... in a side note, Mercury was rather bright today. Good for travelers, and thieves she kept note of the stars…
When it wore off, in the wee hours, she wasn't sure where she had been, between the forbidden forest and the Dark Tower. She had been about to enter through the illusory mountain Merlin had created to hide the Perilous lands as a whole. But then… she had woken up and left to the library trying to find, something, anything about the witch she had seen. Red hair, red eyes, beautiful. And ancient, so very ancient... it shouldn't be hard...
She'd gone, invisible... More so than she had been in Astral form the past hour.
And had come up with nothing. Normally, she'd excuse the vision as a thing occuring in the future or past; she did not. Because that red eyed woman felt so damn familiar. Like a name on the tip of your tongue that no matter how hard you try you just can't remember, and worse, it is only you. Only Morgana; She knew her, somewhere, somehow, sometime. And at the same time, just didn't. It made no sense. But she knew she had some connections to her, no witch that she remembered meeting or hearing about in all the years, all the bloody centuries fit the damn description... and those that were close? Dead.
Now she had no choice, she had to ask Merlin for his help. They had met so many, many people... A thousand years worth of suspects...
Not only that, but the vision made no sense… it was certainly metaphorical in nature. Morgana hated those prophetic visions the most. They always happened, some way or another.
When she had gone through the tedious morning start and with classes coming up she joined with the rest of her classmates in the main hall. It wasn't breakfast that she was looking for. Not today. She entered the main hall, ignoring the majority of the student body and staff. She sat down and waited, then the voices became loud as she turned back and nearly cooed. Aw, Slytherin, all together…
Pretending a united front, yet the priestess could feel their individual separation, Merlin himself shone brightly of conflict, specially next to Draco. Morgana giggled, they are adorable.
"The snakes make their arrival…" Fred announced with all the tone and intention of a Quidditch announcer. Morgana raised an eyebrow at him.
George chuckled. "Thy vook positively muuuurderous…" He added, stifling giggles. Morgana smiled.
"A lioness, bends over, back crooked." She says, purring her words. "Assessing her prey. Males don't follow, among lions, it is the female that does all the hunting. In the menu in the morning, a British python." The Weasley twins grin at each other.
She stood up, walking towards Merlin. And the Slytherins. "Ambrose." She said.
Merlin looked down the stairs, Morgana's new identity, Elaine stared right at him. Her eyes narrowed and with a half grin, that was so familiar- could only mean he wasn't gonna be eating breakfast that day…
"What do you want?" Draco snarled. Merlin glances at him, wondering what type of woodland creature would Morgana turn him, make him spit or fill his – their room with…
"Oh, Little Dragon." Morgana responded, voice velvet and alluring. And a slight teasing tone in her words. "Why don't you fly away?" Merlin shivers, whenever the Priestess voices herself in a matter reserved for lovers, all fluff and sweetness is the moment you're most likely to be turned into fruit.
"Why don't you, Mudblood?" Draco answered, tone venomous. Morgana raised her eyebrow and open her mouth.
Merlin steps towards Morgana pulling her back and walking away with her, she immediately turned around and moved calmly. "Martin?!" Malfoy screeches in disapproval. Merlin scoffs. Shut up, Draco. Morgana allows herself to be pulled to the other side of the room, before she stops moving and turns to face Merlin. Her eyes catch Draco, the dirtiest look an eleven year old can muster in his face. Yeah, she wasn't going to be protecting that spawn.
Turning back to Merlin, she sighs. "I need a favor." There's something so wrong about her words and the way she says them. Merlin almost has flashbacks to the last favor she asked of him, several assassination attempts in the employment of an Eastern Queen; not fun for the entire family, in fact, they all died in the end… pity too…
He sighs "Against my best judgement..."
"Naturally," Morgana looked surprised, she licked her lips, "That was easier than I hoped…"
"Than you 'hoped'?"
"Easy is boring, dear."
Merlin snorted. Rule number one in Morgana Pendragon's laws for a happy short life.
September 2nd, 1991 8:23
"Yaga Baba." Morgana said, putting the pen down.
Merlin frowned but didn't even look away from her tome.
"You dropped her house on her." He stated. Morgana frowned, then nodded as she remembered the incident in the Russian woods. Lifting the house, it's leg kicking and then crushing the old witch with it. Several times… Merlin closed his book and dropped it in the read pile.
The priestess shrugged his gaze off, "And with good reason." She rolled her eyes, scratching the woman's name off with extreme prejudice. Merlin sighed. Morgana hated Yaga Baba, she had a tendency to blame the hag for anything that went wrong... Even small things like the weather... and that gave him an idea, though it was a stretch...
"Jenny Greenteeth?" Suggested Merlin. She was definitely into scare tactics such as invading dreams, perhaps even visions now. Come to think of it Merlin had not seen her in some odd 500, or 600 even; years. If she was still out there –
Morgana didn't even look up. "Evaporated." She answered, finality in her tone. "Evaporated?" Merlin repeated, surprised.
Morgana turned the page of her book on legends. "Evaporated." She confirmed. Merlin froze for a second, on the very least, that explained why Jenny had just stopped killing… The Warlock shook his head, then looked at the book and sighed, what the hell, he figured... His eyes turned golden, looking at the page and at the end a sentence appeared in the same glossy script.
Destroyed at an unknown time and location with a fire spell.
Merlin shrugged almost imperceptibly. And so the legend of that hag came to an end, he supposed. It wasn't the last Old Religion creature Morgana had hunted down, or Merlin for that matter.
She had taken care of every Serket she could find and Merlin supposed he had finished her war against them and made them extinct by burning the last one in that Café in Bristol. At least he thought it was the last one. A warlock could dream.
"Southeil." Merlin proposed. Morgana scoffed.
"Well, well. I haven't heard that name in years. That one is not getting out of her grave. Not as long as the sun rises." She shrugged and claimed Deadliest Witches of the Past by Claudia Black. Merlin sighed, as long as the sun rises? Well, poor Southeil was clearly trapped in a hole in time. Lovely. He just hoped that it wasn't inside a cave or a tree… he couldn't stand it if Morgana was taking inspiration from the so-called Arthurian Legends.
"Vita Nalmu." It should be the Merlinian Legends! He was the one who did everything around Camelot from cleaning the rooms to destroying enemies to the peace. But, of course, Arthur had to get all the credit. Not fair. Morgana dropped Deadliest Witches and picked up another tome.
"Who?"
"That's a No." He sighed.
"Black Annis." Morgana asked. Aware that Merlin had been set against the ancient ghost centuries in the past. Merlin sighed.
"That…" Merlin frowned, "Thing is bound to a stone pyre in Leicester." Morgana gaped for a second at his vitriol before shrugging and going back to The Dark Sorceresses of the Past.
"You certain?" She asked, it wasn't the first time binding magic failed. Their attempts to bind the Questing Beast had been completely unsuccessful, it had shown itself as recently as a century. And though it had been seen it had not done much. Maybe it had mellowed with age.
"Entirely. It was a priestess, you know…"
Lamias had also mellowed with age. They were weaker and boring now. Merlin himself had hunted some of the old Lamia in Scotland. Morgana had been too busy dealing with skinchangers in Virginia. Though he hadn't known until recently how she had been responsible for ending their reign of terror.
Morgana sighed wistfully, looking up. "There are no priests anymore." she states firmly.
Merlin looked at her she looked away to the window and then with a deep breath, she is back to her book. "Red head, red head, red head... why is it always a red head?" Morgana was mumbling. She threw her book in the air and it floated to place itself in a bookshelf. Merlin jumped into the air.
"I got it." Merlin said, "Must be Grimhyldr." Morgana grimaced, horrible memories of the cruel redhaired Nordic Queen in her head. If she never remembered Grimhyldr existed that would still be one too much.
"You killed her, Merlin. Burned her." She said.
"Never found a body." She rolled her eyes. That kind of direct blow wasn't something a witch, even of the Old Religion, as Grimy somehow was, survived... Merlin opened his mouth again but Morgana spoke, in a hurry to push away everything about Grimhyldr again.
"I think I would have recognized her..." The priestess said with a sigh, and looked at the book again, doing a double take to add. "if it was her..." Merlin groaned in frustration. It was the muggle in him, definitely, but if he was gonna keep this up. He needed tea. Morgana let out a growl of frustration before banging her head on the table. "Which she wasn't," She added.
"Bring me a coffee?" She asked, apparently sensing where he was going. She was more fond of it than she was of tea, it had to be her century long hiatus in New York, MACUSA and Ilvermony.
"Extra cream. Cinnamon." Merlin stated, almost automatically.
Morgana smiled, her face still plastered on the aged wood, "Yes, please."
An hour later after a Cinnamon Expresso and Earl Gray, there was no breakthroughs. No surprising findings, and their lists of suspects kept getting thinner.
As of then, they had eliminated Ellean dé Malfey, the first Matriarch of the Malfoy family. Dead, at age 212. She was a strawberry blonde, and a Priestess of the Old religion, lesser in hierarchy and power to Morgana. And she had made several attempts to destroy both of them, if they knew they were immortal it was because Malfey had been thorough in her attempts to hurt them. In another note she had been the last person to call him Emrys. Besides Morgana whenever she had a hissy princess fit…
Gone was Abraham Abulafia's daughter, red head, bad tempered, loved blood and wine, sometimes together. Merlin scowls then sighs, Morgana is not gonna like this.
"You think... the Dochraid?" It was the only thing he could remember that was older than him and still alive. The only he knew with the power as to invade the Priestess' visions. Save from Kilgarrah, but he would not, would he?
"She wouldn't dare!" Morgana snarled, looking up at nowhere with a deadly glare. "She's no match for us. Let her stay in her hovel. She's got absolutely no ingenuity, she lives in the past..." She looked down, "Where she belongs."
"Could she know?" Morgana's hands cletched and some books fell off the bookcase. Hitting the floor with thuds, the table jumped and fell down loudly... the few people around turned to look at them. Merlin sighed and walked to pick up the books, Madam Pince watching him coldly.
"We are not gonna ask her, Merlin." Merlin looked at the Priestess. Was it a seer's rivalry? Or maybe that the Dochraid had called Morgana a failure and a traitor and a Priestess of the Earth no longer. And that Morgana had bound her to her hovel, to the tree inside... forever.
It was a nifty binding spell of hers. Morgana had used it to trap Dark Witch Elizabeth Woodville in a convent till her death. She had also used it in a couple of ghosts in Parisian Catacombs, so he knew that there was no way the Dochraid could ever break out.
A thousand years were a long time, to forgive or to stew resentment... "Maybe we should ask."
"No. Non. Hell no. Nunca. Zilch." Morgana scowled. She looked insulted by his suggestion.
" 'Gana…"
"Merlin." Martin froze, looking around in alarm. If someone heard, if anyone heard he couldn't be discovered the first day! He couldn't begin Obliviating people when classes had not even started.
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"Everyone's in the hall. Will you settle down?"
"Will I settle down?!" There was an almighty crack and the window behind Merlin shattered. Cracks covering as if it had been hit. Morgana made a mental note to magic proof the windows after this before she stared at Merlin.
"That is why we don't own anything nice..." She deadpanned. Behind him the window began fixing with muted cracking sounds, like the implosion of eggshells. Merlin scoffed, incredulous, that jab was clearly something snappy and sassy obtained from muggle entertainment…
"You have a collection of daggers inlet with gold." He stated, lips dry with sarcasm.
Morgana frowned, "Beyond that..."
"A thousand year old garden with plants from all over the world?" Merlin questioned, pouring imperceptibly.
"Well, yes... but..."
"You have poisonous apples from Galapagos!" Definitely one of her most astonishing sprouts. Coonsidering the insane rules on imports coming from the archipelago, it's magical blandness that made magic ridiculously weak in proximity and it's crazier and even more ridiculous goat population. Having obtained not one but enough as to make an orchard of deadly apples that just happened to grow as if it was nobody's business, right next to her sizeable jamaican hibiscus plantation was quite the achievement.
Morgana snarled, "You know what I meant." Merlin snorted.
"How about a personal Zoo of Creatures." So big it was that Merlin wondered what exactly she kept in there. There were unique specimens involved, Morgana's reaction to the Dodo's extinction had been a laugh and a loose comment about not looking hard enough. He was sure the lost Dodo population had found itself in Morgana's hands… she had a soft spot for birds after all.
The priestess waved him off, "That's not…"
"Do you mean your fifty feet walking closet?"
"I can't exactly throw away eastern silk!" She protested.
Merlin couldn't figure what defined as nice. Because a exclusive fashion collection all the way back to the 1st century was nice! "People don't usually own eastern silk." The last high priestess of the triple goddess rolled her eyes, "Or a piano from the seventeenth century."
"That was a gift." She brushed off.
"Yeah. From Cristofori! (2)" He drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm. "What about your ten thousand year old collection of bone tools? Some of them are even human." Morgana growls. "Or a five stories tall library? Personal Museum? Heads from Easter Island? A personal castle?! Tools from serial killers all around-"
"Fine!" She screamed, "Fine. That's why I don't own anything nice and fragile."
"Five of the Lost Faberge Eggs." He pointed out. The priestess went read, she grabbed a pillow that she was sitting and threw it with a vengeance at Merlin, who blinked in surprise.
"Ugh! Get out!" She snarled, Merlin dodged her next throw jumping out of the chair and leaping back. As the second makeshift weapon fell to the floor with a subdued puff, Merlin turn and left. Looking back to make sure Morgana wasn't going to follow him and pummel him to death using red cotton pillows.
And apparently no, she wasn't.
Time to deal with the Elephant in the room. Extending former Death Eater Severus Snape's life span beyond poisons with an scorned priestess… hey, maybe he could mimic Baba Yaga, Morgana hated that witch more than she did Severus… Probably…
Definitely.
Not.
*1 "Vigiles" were an early form of fire fighters in the Roman Empire. As I have made that Merlin is from the late 6th - early 7th century, two or three centuries after the Empire fell, he was more exposed to Roman culture in his youth...
*2 Bartolomeo Cristofori. Attributed Creator of the Pianoforte. And in this case, he found a close friend and muse in Morgana Pendragon.
Yeah, so Morgana's a bit spoiled. But I think we all knew that…
Point out mistakes if you see them, please…
Sorry for the long term silence, turn off the pyres. Burning me would be very cliché.
Thanks for being part of my fantasy!