I'm back! And now you get the resolution to last chapter's cliffhanger. Complete with gratuitous references to canon conversations courtesy of Lancelot and also some pretty deep introspection and dazzling logic leaps on his part.
Things are finally starting to move on Amelia's part and Merlin's making some decisions that will come back to bite her if she lets herself get distracted. Some other stuff happens too.
the person who wrote a scandalised comment about how I couldn't end it there before deleting it - as a reader I absolutely feel you, as an author? I find it amusing. 😊
11th July 09:32 – Central Caversham
Lancelot was not prone to wandering aimlessly, but he had woken up early despite it being his day off and he had thought heading into the centre of Caversham where all of the shops were would make a nice distraction for the morning. There were several shops he wanted to visit and had an interest in. Including a shop that sold loose leaf tea that he was 80% sure was run by druids. He hadn't yet figured out a way to check without sounding crazy or offending them if they weren't. It wasn't like he could waltz up to the counter and say: 'Hey, I'm the reincarnation of Sir Lancelot of Camelot, and I'm looking for my friend Merlin – the dragonlord and warlock. I figured the druids would keep an eye out - can you help me?'
Well, he could, if he were Gwaine or he didn't mind if they thought he was mental. But once he finished training, he might end up at one of the two police stations in Reading and if the locals thought he was crazy that would probably cause problems. Also, he had become very fond of some of the things he could buy at Cold Fire Blends and if he upset them then he wouldn't be able to go back.
He sighed, Merlin, where are you? Meeting Percy and Gwaine had been a coincidence, could he really rely on that to find Merlin again? She was ever so good at dodging such scenarios.
She'd probably love Cold Fire Blends as well. The whole shop was right up her alley, and the two employees that Lancelot was familiar with would probably end up being fast friends with her – she was just like that – even if they weren't druids.
As if his very thoughts had conjured her, Merlin came out of the very street he had been about to turn down. Lancelot sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening and called after his best friend. "Merlin!"
She turned around, and Lancelot barely had time to take in the woman that looked practically identical to the last time he saw her before her eyes widened in surprise and she turned on her heel and ran.
He cursed under his breath before taking off after her, not bothering to waste his breath on calling after her again. He knew she wouldn't stop unless he caught her.
She dodged left into an alleyway, one of two that were right next to each other. One would lead out onto the next street over, the other was a dead end. Lancelot sent out a silent plea, crossed his fingers and turned into the dead-end alleyway. Merlin spun around as he entered, probably hoping to get past him again, and he spread his arms, palm down in a gesture of peace. "Come on, Merlin. Are you really going to do this?"
"I think you've got me confused with somebody else." The cause of many of his past problems and a great deal of stress said, as though he would believe her. He raised his eyebrows.
She sighed. "Ok, fine, you caught me. It was worth a try."
"Why did you try to lie? What are you scared of?"
She smiled wryly. "I've never have been able to lie to you, have I?"
"Not convincingly, no."
"It's a long story."
"I've got time."
She sighed. "I don't suppose you know a place we could sit down?"
He smiled at her, relieved that she wasn't going to try and fight him on this – he'd lose if she tried, "I might know a few."
. . .
09:46 – Smith&Valerie
While Merlin ordered – she'd point blank refused to let him pay – Lancelot grabbed a table in the corner of the café, where they wouldn't be overheard.
When she re-joined him, it was with two croissants, the cappuccino that he'd asked for – complete with a cat face drawn in the milk on the top – and a hot chocolate with an obscene amount of marshmallows and whipped cream. He raised an eyebrow when she proceeded to dump cocoa powder over the top of the concoction but didn't say anything, instead tearing one of the croissants in half and dipping it into his coffee.
Merlin made a face at his action, and he shrugged before eating it. They sat in comfortable silence while they ate, and it was almost like no time had passed since they were in Camelot. It was as though Lancelot hadn't died defending his younger prince and Merlin's eldest and only daughter. As though Merlin hadn't screamed like she was the one dying when she saw him, and she hadn't held him crying as she tried and failed to heal him from a wound that they both knew was fatal.
He examined her again, properly this time. She really did look almost exactly the same as in his memory. Exactly actually. He frowned slightly. She shouldn't look the same. She'd been in her mid-thirties, and he'd been almost forty when he'd died. She should look younger, but she didn't. He'd always thought that she had a bit of a babyface when he'd known her. But Hunith had always looked youthful as well. Certainly, even with multiple grandchildren, some in double digits, Hunith had still looked young enough that most wouldn't immediately assume she had a daughter old enough to have children. But… Merlin hadn't ever looked her age really. She'd maintained the youthful appearance she'd had when Arthur first took the throne with almost no effort on her part – much to Morgana's disgust. But still…
He assumed that they were around the same age – it was true with Percy and Gwaine after all, even though they'd both been several years older than him the first time around. Which means she couldn't possibly be much older than him. Twenty-four or five at most. And certainly, she couldn't be younger than sixteen. She'd been sixteen when they first met, and she looked older than that to him. But that might just be because he knew her.
He took a sip of his drink to hide his inner turmoil and analysed her appearance.
She was using her spoon to eat her whipped cream, alternating bites with the croissant, and taking the excuse to avoid looking at him.
She had an agelessness to her appearance – the kind that meant she could be sixteen or twenty-six and you'd never know the difference at a glance. She'd been a little like that in Camelot too, but he forcibly did not draw upon his memories of Sir Lancelot for this – remembering his training about taking in information without letting assumptions or bias get in the way.
Her hair was in a scruffy bun at the nape of her neck – the kind that meant she hadn't taken any time with it and simply needed it out of the way. Wisps of hair were escaping all over the place, and she blew several strands out of her face every now and then. She wasn't wearing a neckerchief like she had then – first out of comfort and then to cover up the top edges of the scar that peeked out of the top of her tunics and dresses – but she had a light scarf wrapped around her neck instead – the kind that women wore as a fashion statement, even when it wasn't cold. Her leather jacket wasn't the same as the one she had before, but it was in the same shade of brown and clearly old and well-loved, he could see the wear around the collar where it hung on the back of her chair.
Wear, he abruptly realised, that took at least ten years to develop, which a girl dressed as a uni student shouldn't have on a jacket unless it was an heirloom, and he remembered that the jacket had fit her too comfortably for that, it fit her like it was used to her, like it had only ever been hers.
He dropped his gaze to her hands. Her nails were short – like always – and he could see the same callouses she'd always had on her fingers and palms, along with new ones that he didn't recognise. She shouldn't have the same callouses. He couldn't imagine that she did much with horses or swords in this day and age. His eyes slid up her wrists and over the familiar faint scar on the right one, and up to her elbows. He froze and glanced back down. He recognised that scar on her wrist – too faint for anyone to notice unless they knew it was there. He'd given it to her by accident, back when he'd first been teaching her to fight with a quarterstaff, and she'd blocked badly, and his sword had slipped. He felt cold. There was no reason for Merlin's new body to have that scar. None.
Mind racing, he catalogued how she sat and held herself, wiping his mouth with a napkin to buy himself time before speaking – hoping that she wouldn't notice that he'd frozen.
She didn't fidget like she used to and sat with a comfortable calm and poise that she'd never quite managed to master in Camelot. She was confident – that was it – sure of herself in a way he'd never seen before when she wasn't in the midst of battle. She'd always been too insecure, still caught up in the fear of the pyre, even fifteen years since the last one had been built. She'd never had that confidence, the shadow of Uther always looming over her.
This woman was someone used to being listened to. One that had confidence in her ability to make herself heard and obeyed. One that had no doubt that when she spoke her words would be taken into account before any decision was made.
Lancelot hid his tremble by scrunching up his napkin. This woman was one with decades of experience leading and teaching. He just knew it. It wasn't the confidence he'd seen in his King in her. It was the confidence that he remembered Gwen learning – unbowed, proud, and knowing that she was right and that when she showed someone how to do something they would do it, exactly as she showed them.
He picked up his teaspoon, forcibly casual and refused to let his voice tremble when he spoke. If he was right…
He was right. And much like the secret of her magic, this was a secret that she wouldn't admit to having if he didn't pull it out of her with the fact that he already knew.
"You've changed, Merlin." He said, idly, stirring his spoon in his teacup, even though he didn't need to. He was proud that his voice didn't shake, and his hand was steady as a rock.
"Have I?" she asked, resigned, finally looking at him.
"Not in a bad way. You seem more… settled, somehow. More secure in yourself and what you can do."
"A thousand years between then and now will do that, I suppose."
Lancelot didn't narrow his eyes, but that was almost an admission. Certainly, he'd have thought nothing of it if he hadn't seen that scar on her wrist.
"And no longer needing to worry about Arthur being assassinated all the time."
She laughed, and then immediately covered her mouth with her hand, as though it had caught her by surprise and she hadn't meant to, "That too, I guess."
She looked down at her mug, half smiling and somewhat wistful. He wondered when the last time she'd honestly been caught by surprise by her own amusement had been.
He put down his spoon. If he was right, and he was becoming more and more certain that he was…
Lancelot knew that he was her best friend, that he always had been. But he also knew that there was no one more important to Merlin than Arthur. He sometimes wondered if maybe in a different world, one where Arthur had known her as someone other than his manservant, had always known she was a girl, or one where he hadn't cared either way, if maybe he wouldn't have fallen in love with her instead of Gwen. If maybe in a world where magic hadn't been illegal and Merlin didn't have to hide herself, or a world where Arthur had found out about her magic much earlier, if maybe she wouldn't have fallen for him too.
They'd always been connected, in a way no one else could compare with. Fate, or destiny, you could say.
He might have been her best friend, but Arthur was her other half, right down to the very soul. Soulmates, you could say. There was nothing inherently romantic about it. It was as simple as knowing who the other was, whether there were secrets between them or not. It was looking at another person and recognising them without any of the lies or artifice – at seeing them and thinking "oh, it's you", and being changed forever because of it. It was knowing what the other was made of, seeing them, and forgiving them any sin, of shouldering half of the burden that the other carried without being asked. It was loving them regardless of their actions or their lies, no matter if they'd hurt you with them, because how could any half hate that which made it whole? How could they look at the other person and not know, instantly, deeply, that life without them would be unbearable now that they'd met?
He wondered what having that, losing it, and then living without it would do to a person.
"How did you figure it out?" he asked, instead of the myriad of other questions he had.
"Hmm? Figure out what?" Merlin looked at him, confused, tongue half poking out of her mouth, mid-swipe when she met his eyes.
"That you weren't aging. That 'Emrys' was less an honoured title and more an accurate description."
"I-"
"You've never been able to hide anything from me, Merlin. Are you really going to try and start now?"
Merlin closed her eyes, and to his alarm, several silent tears slipped down her cheeks. "No." she said, shakily, voice slightly choked, "I guess not."
. . .
17th July 09:42 – Ministry of Magic, Level 2, Magical Justice and Law Office, Office C32
Morgana looked up from her review of case law precedent regarding discrimination and prejudice in the DMLE at the knock on the open door and had to suppress a gasp when she saw none other than Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE and one of Morgana's role models.
Madam Rosier didn't so much as glance towards the door to her office and instead simply grunted, "Speak or leave."
Madam Bones smiled slightly, "What, no hello?"
"Ames!" Madam 'don't-call-me-ma'am' Rosier broke into the first smile that Morgana had seen her make, "What brings you down to bother us lowly MJL staff now that you've moved on to bigger and better things?"
"I'd hardly consider you lot 'lowly'. Is Auror Gregory still resorting to hiding under his desk every time he catches wind of your presence in the Auror Office?"
Madam Rosier actually laughed at that, "More or less – I let him labour under the illusion that I don't know that he does that and that I can't see him when he does."
"Of course, you do. I'd say that husband of yours rubbed off on you, but I know better – he's far sweeter than you ever were."
"Rude of you. But accurate." Madam Rosier moved the paperwork that she'd been working on to one side, before leaning forwards, "It's too early for this to be a social call. What is it that you want my opinion on?"
Madam Bones hesitated, "What do you know about your husband's cousin?"
"Druella?"
"Noah."
Madam Rosier frowned, "I know he was sent to Azkaban in early '82 and his husband got arrested but was never convicted of anything. I know that he was a Healer at one point, that he was the only one of my in-laws that sent a congratulations on our marriage and that his husband has cut off contact with both the Rosier and Nott families since he ended up in Azkaban. The closest I've ever come to meeting him was when we took Matty to St Mungo's right after you-know-what and a friend that works there told me that he was on duty in EI at the time. Why?"
Morgana realised that if this was about Madam Rosier's in-laws then it was probably a private conversation, and hastily pretended to be absorbed in case law precedent.
"Take a look at this." Madam Bones handed Madam Rosier a file that looked a lot like the ones that Morgana was currently studying, with the addition of what seemed to be many notes.
There was silence for a while as Madam Rosier skimmed through the file and Morgana tried her hardest to pay attention to what she was reading, pretending that she wasn't paying a lick of attention to the interplay between the two witches.
"This is…" Madam Rosier grimaced, apparently beyond words.
"I know. I would appreciate your input."
"My input? I'm a hairsbreadth away from storming the offices of the people involved!" Madam Rosier said, hand twitching to where her wand lay on her desk.
"I know, I know, we're working on it." Madam Bones's tone was fond, if a little tense.
"We? Who else? The only writing here that's not yours is Pritchard's – and if it was just the two of you there wouldn't be a 'we' involved."
Madam Bones glanced away, "A handful of others, including Scrimgeour, I'm hesitant to say anything else – it could be all our jobs if the wrong person got wind of this too soon."
Madam Rosier pursed her lips but didn't comment. "What did you need from me? You didn't just show me this out of the goodness of your heart."
"There are over a dozen incidents like this, I'm hoping to contact some of the family members of those involved, and was hoping that between you and your husband you know the best way to do that, and also who I should speak to in terms of," Madam Bones glanced sideways at where Morgana was apparently engrossed in her studies, having mastered eavesdropping without appearing to long before Arthur ever took the throne, "Officials – people that would agree with our opinions, or who would take only minimal convincing."
"I can get you input for families as soon as I know the names involved – I can't promise something for everyone, but I have a lot of friends so even if I can't provide approaches, I can probably get you the name of someone who can, although ideally that won't be necessary." Madam Rosier sighed, "As for officials – how many do you need?"
Madam Bones breathed out slowly, "Seven and seven just to start with – I want to get this process moving so that hopefully by this time next year we've dealt with the whole situation."
"You know it's not going to be that simple." Madam Rosier said, grimly, "Just from this report I can tell you that there are more than a few people invested in you not managing what you're aiming for. Powerful people, Amelia – if you make a misstep with this it could kill your career, if you're lucky."
Madam Bones tipped her head in acknowledgement, "I know. But I can't let this pass unacknowledged. I have a job to do, and this is part of it. The Bones name carries its own weight, and all I need is a few others."
Madam Rosier closed her eyes for a moment, before squaring her shoulders, "I can get you the names of ten total that will want to help, and I have several favours that I can cash in. If it really gets dicey, I also have dirt on a couple of people, but it had better not get to that point."
"Thank you." Madam Bones said, "I know that this is a big-"
"Don't. You're right. This is our job." Madam Rosier shut the file, tucking the various papers back into it neatly, "There are a few people that I can think of that would help with this particular case, but they may not be willing to help with the rest, depending on who those other cases involve. The war hurt everybody, and a lot of people lost things that they would condemn even the most tangentially involved for." She handed the file back to Madam Bones. "Just let me know what I can do to help – I don't have too much on my plate to help out a friend with something like this. And for that case in particular I would be willing to invest time that I wouldn't otherwise be able to spare."
"I appreciate it. I-" Madam Bones hesitated, "Thank you. And I will bear that in mind."
"Wait, Ames!" Madam Bones stopped at the door, half turned to where Madam Rosier had called her name, "Be careful." Madam Rosier twisted her wand around in her hand in a motion that Morgana would mistake for unease if she hadn't already learnt that Madam Rosier was unflappable, "There are still people around who wouldn't hesitate to kill if you get too close to their secrets."
"I know. And you be careful too, Mia. I'm not the only one with enemies willing to kill."
They exchanged a long look, before Madam Bones nodded sharply and left.
Morgana moved onto the next case, mind whirling as she tried to figure out what exactly was going on, and who the officials were that Madam Bones needed to talk to.
"Pendragon." Madam Rosier said after a moment.
"Hmm?" Morgana looked up at her, giving off her best impression of someone who had just been firmly concentrated on something.
"I trust that you won't tell anyone what just happened here? The MJL's loyalty is to justice at all times."
Morgana's heart dropped to her stomach, "I-" she tried frantically to come up with a convincing denial.
Madam Rosier's raised eyebrow stopped her in her tracks, and she ducked her head sheepishly.
"I won't." she promised.
"Good. Now go back over that last case, I'd be incredibly surprised if you absorbed any of it."
"Yes, Madam Rosier." Morgana said, thankful that her supervisor was going to leave it at that and not scold her for eavesdropping.
"And Pendragon?"
Morgana swallowed, "Yes?"
"That was impressive eavesdropping – next time make sure to fidget as you 'read' – you'll be convincingly engrossed." Madam Rosier favoured her with a small nod and dropped a couple of sickles on her desk. "When you're done with that case why don't you go and get us both something to drink while we discuss what you've learnt so far."
Morgana ducked her head to hide her smile, "Yes, Madam Rosier."
. . .
Dear Meredith,
I hope that you have been well since we last spoke. I myself have made much progress on the matter which we discussed last month, and as such am feeling rather pleased. I have spoken to several of my former colleagues on the matter, most notably Madam Rosier, whose connections to those from all walks of life are an asset, to put it mildly. I have also spoken to several independent lawyers, although have been rather vague about the matter and have now put together a plan with advice from both Rufus and Isobel about the best way to proceed.
In order to start the process of reopening an investigation, especially one so long ago and with such matters involved, the agreement and support of the Heads of both the Auror and MJL offices (support which I have already procured), and of 14 members of the Wizengamot, specifically seven members with heritage seats and seven with elected seats is needed. To that end I have put together a list of the most likely candidates to approve of my case, with annotations provided by others included. Any insight you have would be much appreciated – and since I cannot choose the elected officials to present my case to, any advice you have would not go amiss.
I am hoping to secure the support for this matter without having to resort to using the Bones Wizengamot seat, or indeed the Ambrosius, Scrimgeour, or Trelawney Wizengamot seats. If those we convince are entirely independent of our own relations and sphere of influence, then there are no grounds for the claims of bias that others might seek to make. Whilst, of course, if it is necessary, I will not hesitate to use the influence that we have, the whole process would be smoother without doing so.
The attached parchment contains the case that we have to present so far, along with the actions we seek to take and how it will proceed (most notably that we wish to have the support of the families of those involved in the process, and that we intend to provide legal representation to those involved) – I wish to make it as airtight as possible in order to minimise the risk of someone making arbitrary changes that will make some part of the process more difficult. Please review what we have and send back any improvements or annotations that you can think of. If you are available, I would also like the four of us to meet in person again before the case is presented in order to iron out any difficulties ahead of time. The 30th July, 5th August, and 18th August are the days where our schedules line up so that we are all free, at 09:30, 14:30, and 11:00 respectively. If you could let me know if you can make any of these times, then I would greatly appreciate it. I would like to start the process ASAP, and if you cannot make any of these days then we will meet up without you on the 30th. In the meantime, all three of us will be meeting with Wizengamot members in order to feel out where they would potentially stand on the matter and hopefully convince them that it is important that we show that we are willing to right such injustices without bias, regardless of what the final outcome will be. I hope that with all the precautions we are planning to make that the long-term repercussions will be as small as bad publicity for the MoM. The Minister may not like it, but there is a price to pay for such a thing to be done, and if we are truly to have a Ministry that is as fair as it proclaims itself to be, then some sacrifices must be made for the sake of justice, even if the hit is to our pride and image. (You know my thoughts on such things)
Many thanks and wishing you well,
Madam Amelia Bones
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Head of House Bones; Former Head of the Magical Justice and Law Office
. . .
21st July 15:06 – Beaumaris, Anglesey
Merlin leaned back in the grass, sunning herself to the sound of the sea and the smell of salt in the air.
She shifted to one side.
She shifted back the other way.
She sat up and sighed.
Today was the day that Amelia had confirmed she was having her first meeting with a Wizengamot member – specifically Tiberius Ogden, who she was assured was devoted to the fairness of the Ministry. All going well, things should be put into motion swiftly and the start of the reopening of the investigations and reinterviewing the people involved could happen as soon as early September. Merlin was less than convinced things would move that quickly. The Wizengamot was generally slow to take action in such matters, and between Crouch's position as Head of DIMC and the deep pockets of more than a few purebloods that may or may not be implicated by new testimony, they'd be lucky if they could start the process before the Autumn Equinox.
Merlin flopped back down again, releasing tendrils of magic to burrow into the ground, and feeling them flare slightly every time they came into contact with one of the local spell lines or ward boundaries set up by the Winter Earth clan. Helping them to identify defunct or faded spells by means of poking them with magic at staggered intervals wasn't hard, it was just time consuming and left her with little to do but think.
This kind of corruption that they'd discovered in the Ministry was exactly why the four founders of Hogwarts had created the by-laws preventing outside interference – not that that helped the current situation. She wondered what Salazar would have thought of the Head of his House having the protection of the school given what he was implicated in. Rowena's temper meant she probably would have tried to deal with Severus Snape herself and Godric would probably have tried to make him choose to leave by making it uncomfortable and inconvenient to the point of harm for him to remain. Helga though… well Merlin knew exactly how Helga would have reacted and she couldn't help but wince in sympathy at the imagined consequences. Helena used to giggle at the antics of her mother and uncles, and her aunt's reaction to all of the above.
Helena…
It was odd – Merlin hadn't spoken to Helena in centuries, the girl had avoided her so well – but a month since she'd last spoken to her and the distance was unbearable. Then again, it was less unbearable than being in the same general area as the girl that was as good as a daughter to her and being unable to speak to her, so perhaps it was a matter of perspective. It was harder now because she knew she could speak to Helena if she wanted to, whereas before it was easier to be away from her than close to Helena but unable to interact with her in any meaningful way.
Helena probably had opinions on the whole situation. Merlin should talk to her about it when she got back to Hogwarts in September.
What did she think about Snape? Potions was one of Helena's favourite subjects – how did she feel about the new teacher?
… maybe Merlin should consider creating a circumstance where Snape would end up taught about what was and was not acceptable in a teacher, regardless of personal hang-ups…
She could engineer a confrontation in public to facilitate it…
But Snape had improved in class since September! He still picked on Neville and Harry and favoured the Slytherins, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. And really, if she was going to do something about Snape's behaviour then she had to do something about Binns and DADA too.
Binns was terrible and Merlin said this as someone who loved history and had a great tolerance for awful teachers. Snape was a different situation – he was terrible to his students – Binns was terrible at teaching.
He needed replacing, and if Dumbledore wasn't going to do it at his own volition, then she'd have to come up with something that made it necessary for Binns to be replaced…
And DADA! It had been thirty years since they had a teacher for longer than a year! That was just sloppy management. Obviously, there was a curse on the position. She'd have to do some digging to find it… And then make sure that whoever ended up with the job was actually decent. She'd heard horror stories about past teachers, albeit there was probably some exaggeration going on. Although really, could Dumbledore do worse than Quirrell? Between his stutter, his affected fear of his own subject, and having Lord fucking Voldemort on the back of his head and actively attempting to murder a student, actually murdering several unicorns, and everything that happened with the stone, Dumbledore surely couldn't do worse.
Speaking of the stone, she should probably get that to France and the Flamels. Gideon had vouched for them after all and leaving it lying around in her house was just asking for trouble given how much semi-sentient magic was floating around there. The last thing anyone needed was the Philosopher's Stone being affected by that.
Was Aislinn still staying with Gideon in Lyon? She could drop in after giving the stone back…
It had been too long since she'd seen him, and Aislinn was such a terrible correspondent that she'd be sure to have stories about what she'd been doing since she'd helped with the illegal dragon situation back in May.
At least she'd seen Sebastian since she'd left Hogwarts for the Summer. Basti was such a dear, providing her with alibis for when she needed to leave Summer Lake Farm. Although she was fairly certain he was Caleb's favourite and would be coming by regardless… Even though Caleb claimed that he didn't have favourites…
Maybe she could introduce Basti and Aislinn to Lancelot… they'd love to meet him – they certainly loved the stories about him well enough… And she didn't have to explain anything to Lancelot or lie about her relationship to two kids that looked to be around the same age as her…
…it was so nice to be able to talk to Lancelot again… she'd forgotten how much she'd missed him and how easy it was to just sit in his company with no secrets between them…
…had she told Lancelot that she had kids?
Eh. If he doesn't already know he'll just roll with it.
Merlin had to get her fun from somewhere, there was so much going on that needed her to be serious or on guard that having situations where she could just relax and be herself without any other duties were luxuries not to be taken for granted.
That settled it. Lyon with Gideon and Aislinn, and then inviting Lancelot to her place to meet her kids.
. . .
24th July 19:13 – Pendragon Household
"…Well, that seems rather stupid." Arthur said bluntly when Morgana finished telling them about the laws covering the intersection between the authority of the Improper Use of Magic Office and that of the Department of Magical Education and what exactly was covered by the term "Improper Use" when it came to home-schooled students vs those who weren't home-schooled but had cause to use magic in self-defence.
"No, it's not." Morgana said defensively, "The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery is in place to help preserve the Statute of Secrecy and to discourage students from using magic for arbitrary reasons over the holidays in situations unmonitored by a magical adult that could fix or reverse effects caused by a spell gone wrong."
"That doesn't mean it's not stupid! That could easily be abused against someone that the enforcer doesn't particularly like. I mean it's wide open for loopholes in interpretation – not to mention what determines a threat, do they need proof?"
"Are you suggesting that because there is potential for someone to use the law to their own ends that the Decree should be reversed – that teenagers that potentially don't have any supervision should be able to cast magic willy-nilly and damn the consequences if something goes wrong?"
"Well now you're just deliberately misunderstanding me!"
Morgana glowered at her brother, "I'm not deliberately misunderstanding anything! You're just being obtuse!"
"And you're refusing to admit that there's enough space to fly a dragon through the loopholes in the law!"
There was a clatter as Mordred abruptly got up from the table, "If you'll excuse me, I have an elsewhere to be," he said, before fleeing the room.
Uther hummed and retrieved the newspaper from the corner, burying his head in it in a pointed statement that he did not wish to be involved.
Before she knew it, Morgana was yelling at Arthur about how intolerable it was that he always shoved his dirty mugs in the sink instead of putting them in the dishwasher so she could never find any clean ones and he was yelling back about how she always had the Wixen Radio on so he could never just bring his friends by unannounced for fear that he'd be breaking her oh-so-vaunted Statute of Secrecy and she was retorting that he was always coming back from pub nights late and some of them had to work, Arthur!
Their screaming match came to an abrupt halt with a pointed cough from their father, "That's enough. The both of you. Are you children or adults gaining a proper place in the world?"
They both shut up and looked at the floor, not responding.
"If you can't have a civil conversation over a difference in opinion then you will not speak at all. Are you going to apologise to each other?"
Morgana stubbornly kept her mouth shut and saw Arthur glaring at the wall mulishly out of the corner of her eye.
"I see. In that case, since you insist on acting like children, I will treat you as such. You will both go to your rooms until you can be civil or until the morning, whichever should come first. You will not speak to each other unless it is to apologise, and you will not speak to me or to Mordred unless you can do so reasonably and without starting another argument. Am I clear?"
Neither of them made a sound. Morgana felt like bristling at the way that he was treating her, but a loud part of her mind pointed out that her father wasn't exactly unjustified.
"I said, am I clear?"
Morgana and Arthur both made quiet noises that could be interpreted as assent.
"Good. Now go. Poor Mordred should not have to hide just because the two of you are incapable of civil conversation."
Morgana stormed out of the room, still furious at her brother but was not in too much of a temper to acknowledge that she was at least as much in the wrong as he was in this particular incident. It did little to make her feel better or calm her temper and she pointedly slammed her door behind her. Her magic nudged her, and she could practically feel Arthur's flinch from where he had been less than two steps behind her.
The fact that her magic had also apparently taken her brother's side made Morgana supress a scream and she just barely refrained from the urge to use a pillow to muffle it.
Perhaps she was acting like a teenager, but Arthur wasn't acting much better, and unlike him, she actually had work. His course wouldn't start until October, and he wasn't being in any way considerate of those in the house that had early mornings five or six days out of seven.
She glared at the wall, still seething. That settles it! Morgana thought viciously. I'm moving out!
. . .
Ok, I'll admit it, I cried a little writing that meeting between Lancelot and Merlin. She can't hide from him, and if she's honest with herself she wouldn't want to. She'll lie to Arthur until she's blue in the face to keep him safe or stop him from being hurt but even now she's still terrified of being honest with him. Lancelot never let anything get in the way and always managed to get right to the heart of things and he's always been noble and upright enough that people listen when he talks. Which is also probably why he died the way he did in canon, both in-universe and from a meta point of , currently:
POV: your boss is apparently good friends with her boss's boss. They are discussing her family except it might also be about treason? They are planning to get other people involved. You pretend you do not exist and didn't hear a word of it. Your boss is onto you. She approves and buys you coffee.
I'm not sure how well Merlin's whole scene where she's hopping from thought to thought comes across - I was aiming for that feeling where you're not really doing anything and you start thinking about something that happened this morning and the next thing you know you're rehashing an argument from two years ago with better comebacks or comparing the different types of ice cream
More chapters to come! I have the next chapter fully written and the one after that thoroughly outlined and partly written (outside pov of Merlin's family characters is more difficult than I thought it would be), so I will be aiming for two chapters in the next two months like I did for the end of book 1 (debateable how well that will go) and hopefully will finish ch5 in the meantime for a third chapter at the end of all of that.
Don't forget that you can always find me on tumblr where I'm always willing to talk or word vomit over you about my writing