Destiny Begins
by Milui Elenath
Chapter Three
Merlin strode from the café in extreme agitation. What the hell was Morgana playing at? And how was she alive? And what was she getting at about the old stories and who was manipulating them if it wasn't her? And where had she been all this time? And where was Aithusa? And did either of them know why magic had disappeared? Merlin halted and looked skyward and his eyes closed in resignation.
He folded his arms. He could not be done with Morgana, however much he wished it.
Not, at least until these questions were answered and he was sure she was causing no destruction. Merlin knew he should turn around, head back to the café but seeing Morgana had shaken him. Voices of the past swirled in his head.
Kilgarrah warned him not to trust the witch.
Gaius rebuked him for being so foolish. "You're letting your feelings dictate your actions, Merlin."
Gwaine told him to go all out, or, was it Lancelot telling him to hear Morgana out?
The voices swirled and overlapped, "Merlin, Merlin, Merlin!"
"Merlin!" A hand clasped his shoulder.
Merlin stared absently into the face of one of the café staff.
"Merlin, it's your friend, the woman you were with, she's just collapsed."
Merlin's eyes focused on the worker. "Collapsed?"
The staff member nodded and beckoned him back.
Merlin followed scowling, this had to be some sort of ploy of Morgana's to get him to return but he could hardly be seen to be so indifferent to her plight in front of people he frequently saw – they would not understand. Perhaps it was for the best if he got this over with anyway.
Merlin entered expecting very little commotion. Half believing Morgana would be sitting somewhere in propped up pretence, hiding a smirk at his return but instead he saw that most people in the café were standing beside their seats, some with hands over their mouths, others nervously chatting to each other, only a few remained seated but all were staring towards a little huddle of people. In the centre of them lay a seemingly unconscious Morgana.
Merlin could see a young woman bending over Morgana's prone form, speaking in soft tones, but the sorceress's eyes remained closed. As Merlin neared, the woman had begun carefully shifting Morgana into a first aid shock position, suddenly the woman gasped. "She's bleeding."
Merlin could see it too. Something that looked like blood had begun to seep onto Morgana's shirt.
"She's been stabbed or shot." A man conjectured wildly.
Another woman pointed at Merlin. "He must have done it! He was with her."
Merlin's head snapped to the crowd and he held up his hands. "I haven't done anything to her."
"I heard them arguing." A large man informed the group. The woman beside him nodded in confirmation.
All eyes of the café were on Merlin including the staff that knew him.
Merlin's brows were drawn together, he had not decided if Morgana was faking this or what he should do if she was not, his thoughts were on his actions and as such he was dismissive of the crowd. "She was fine when I left her."
Not everyone looked convinced, the tension in the room was increasing.
Merlin began to realise how cold he must seem to these strangers. They had no idea really how cold he felt towards the woman on the floor, none the less he felt compelled to dispel the crowd's disapproval. "I didn't harm her." He was aware it was not a convincing statement.
"She's got a bandage on." The woman tending Morgana broke to the crowd. She partially lifted Morgana's shirt to inspect the wound, "She must have been already injured."
Merlin saw that this was likely true. The crowd's suspicion of him had immediately lifted with this revelation but Merlin felt suddenly, absurdly, as if he had gotten off too easily. It was ridiculous to feel so but the sight of Morgana's bandage had started a very unnerving sensation. Guilt.
Misplaced guilt, he told himself but his indifference, nay, his cynical demeanour to the situation was faltering.
Abruptly Morgana's body began jerking, fitting and in such a way that Merlin no longer doubted that she was faking it. He was astonished to feel yet another shift in his feelings from uneasiness to deep concern. Morgana was his last remaining link to magic, to Aithusa, to Camelot, to answers. . . to so much and she was in real trouble.
He found the healer in himself taking over and the crowd, perhaps seeing the determination in his eyes, parted as he moved through them. He knelt beside Morgana, the woman that had caused him so much pain and stared at her for a moment in hesitation.
His heart was beating hard and his hand reached out. Merlin was aware there was an awkwardness in the way he finally, tentatively touched the skin on Morgana's cheek. He was surprised that as he did, she stilled in her movements as suddenly as she had started. "Morgana," he urged but she made no response. She remained unconscious.
There was sweat on her forehead and there was slight heat emanating. He could not do much magic here in front of all these people but he could get an idea of what was going on and at least determine if Morgana was for certain, legitimately ill.
Merlin reached carefully for the bandage across Morgana's stomach and gently lifted it. He could see part of a wound, a puncture and he'd seen enough in his many days to know it came from a sword. His hands began to tremble with the knowledge, with shock. Even without trying he could sense it. It was no ordinary sword wound. He had felt this before. It was a wound given, driven by magic, driven of course by a sword forged in a dragon's breath, by Excalibur. "Oh Morgana," he moaned.
He stood hurriedly, staggered back, holding his hand to his mouth as nausea viciously took hold. This was his doing. This was the wound he had inflicted long, long, centuries ago. He was in no doubt of that. Morgana must have been suffering it all this time. The implications were horrifying.
She was a high priestess of the old religion, Merlin could only conclude that her magic had kept her alive but not enough to heal her completely. He remembered the immense power he had felt yesterday, healing power. The blood in her tent, Morgana's blood.
Merlin doubled over, gripping his stomach. He had never wanted this. He'd wanted the bloodshed to end, for all of it to be over. There'd been times, dark times, when he'd thought for a moment, a mere moment, that he wanted her to suffer, but not like this and for centuries. Not ever like this!
The world was spinning. Someone was patting him on the shoulder. "It's okay. I've called an ambulance; it is on the way. She'll be alright."
Merlin shook his head. "She's not alright, she'll never be alright. Nothing is alright. Nothing has been alright for a long time!" Merlin was aware he was babbling, that fear and horror were consuming him.
"Hang in there," it was an old man who was standing with him, for a moment he reminded Merlin of Gaius. Gaius would have known what to do. He'd have told Merlin to focus on the current problem, on what he could do. It steadied him.
Merlin looked past the old man, at Morgana lying helplessly on the floor, she was fitting again. He went to her, reaching for her hand. The fitting stopped as he took hold and she lay more quietly but still Merlin could sense the wound, magic drawing in and out of it, a battle between healing and further harm. Merlin shook his head. "I'm so sorry Morgana. So, so sorry." He whispered it to her. He could do nothing else to help her, there was no magic that could hold out against a dragon's magic, no magic that could heal this.
The next few moments were blurred. An ambulance arrived, he was pushed out of the way and Morgana began fitting again. This time she did not stop. Merlin was asked if he knew what happened; how the wound had been caused? He shook his head. He could hardly acknowledge that he had stabbed her with a magical sword one thousand years ago. Did she have allergies? Did she have family? He didn't know, did she have anyone?
The paramedics lifted the stretcher towards the van.
"I'm going with her," Merlin stated unequivocally. The least he could do was not leave her alone. Perhaps, perhaps he could do something to alleviate her pain. If she regained consciousness then maybe their combined magic might be able to do something for her, make it a little easier to bear . . . but never heal.
"And you're her . . .?" Prompted the female emergency worker.
Merlin swallowed hard and stared miserably for a moment. "Friend." He refrained from adding not a very good one.
The worker looked somewhat reluctant.
"I'm all she has," added Merlin.
The worker nodded. "Stay in your seat and keep out of my way."
Merlin climbed into the ambulance; once again he took Morgana's hand. Immediately Morgana stilled her fitful movement. Merlin's forehead wrinkled as he noticed this.
The attendant was on the other side, she raised a brow, then looked down at her equipment and shook her head slightly. "Does she suffer from seizures?" She asked Merlin.
"I don't know, I don't think so," Merlin responded. He was staring fixedly at his own hand that held Morgana's, a suspicion had begun to take hold.
The ambulance officer pursed her lips thoughtfully. Merlin thought her confusion was understandable. Morgana did not appear to exhibit any signs of shock despite the blood loss and the seizures seemed to stop and start in a very odd manner. Who knew what the paramedic made of it but Merlin had his own theory and was summoning courage to confirm it.
His hand gripped Morgana's harder, terrified to put his theory to the test. He was horrified as to what it might mean if it were true but he had to know. He steeled himself, relaxed his fingers and loosened his grip on her hand.
For a moment in time he was free of the contact between himself and Morgana and for that moment she convulsed. He took her hand once more; she stopped. Merlin didn't understand why but his contact was stopping the seizures.
The paramedic was taking out another form. "If I could just get some of Anna's details."
Merlin had used Morgana's festival name when previously asked. He nodded distractedly.
"Her last name?"
Merlin looked up suddenly, he tried not to panic. What was Morgana's last name? In this timeframe? For that matter did she even go by Anna? He feared, he had put himself in a terrible position. The paramedic had already seemed reluctant to let him ride with Morgana and if Merlin suddenly revealed that he didn't know her last name she would question his friend status with Morgana and perhaps force him to leave once they arrived at the hospital. He was even more reluctant to leave Morgana now knowing that he could stop her convulsions. Yet he had no way of knowing what alias Morgana was using. His mind searched desperately for some answer and with elation, he recalled that someone had handed him Morgana's handbag as they entered the ambulance and that it was sitting nearby. If he could just steal a look unnoticed at Morgana's licence or cards, he'd have all the answers he'd need.
But the worker was staring at him, waiting for his answer now. Merlin glanced at the binder the paramedic had taken the form from. It was hanging on the shelf behind her. Without a word, for the briefest of moments, his eyes glowed, the binder snapped open and with a slight movement, it slid from its position. Forms fell fluttering to the floor of the ambulance. Predictably the worker turned with a gasp, followed by an exasperated sigh and began to pick them up.
Merlin did not waste a moment. He summoned Morgana's handbag and pulled out her identification.
He stared at it, reading it over for a second time and again a third, his eyes were rounded, his mouth dried up.
"I could have sworn I secured that," the paramedic said putting the binder safely in a pocket. She picked up the form she previously had and hovered her pen over the lines. "Where were we? Ah yes, last name."
"Emrys," Merlin said softly.
The worker was unaware of his discomfit as she continued the request for information. He answered distractedly, reading from Morgana's id card.
The worker thought nothing of this. Afterall it was entirely normal to get out your friend's i.d. to check birth dates and addresses . . . but not their last names.
Finally, the worker got to the final question. "Next of kin?"
Merlin shook his head. "I don't know."
"Yourself ?" She suggested.
"Yes." Merlin said nodding, "of course me, yes me."
"I need your name, hun."
"Oh right, right. Merlin."
"Merlin …?" The paramedic prompted.
"Merlin Emrys."
"Emrys?" The worker's forehead puckered. "Relationship?" She tried to clarify delicately.
Merlin couldn't imagine what the worker was thinking. Morgana for some unknown reason had chosen to use the name of her old adversary as a surname, his name, his current surname and now he had to somehow explain why he hadn't declared himself her relative.
Merlin opened and closed his mouth. How exactly should he explain this? "We're – well we're," he stammered, stumbling over words that seemed entirely foreign. What could he say, siblings? Distant cousins?
"Ahh, I think I see." The worker intervened. "It's complicated?"
"Yes," Merlin nodded relieved, then fearing what she was implying he added hurriedly "wait no. I mean –"
"We get couples who are in a state of flux all the time." She dismissed. "You're here now, that's what matters. I can put down husband. Unless you're divorced that is?"
"No, no but -."
"Good," she said. "Ah, we're here."
Merlin lifted a finger of protest but he was too late, the worker was busting open the doors busying herself with Morgana's trolley.
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Once they arrived at the hospital Merlin had stayed with Morgana as much as he could. He realised that Morgana being admitted to the hospital was probably futile and quite likely a terrible turn of events. Her wound was magical but there was little to do now to stop the process of the medical juggernaut. Tests and scans were performed and the bleeding stopped - at least for now - but Morgana remained stubbornly unconscious. Merlin had been forced to let go during some of the tests and had noticed a further pattern of her seizures. The amount of time he spent in contact with her seemed to be proportionate to the amount of time before she began fitting once more. If he held her hand for ten minutes then for ten minutes after that Morgana would be at rest.
It was evidently very perplexing for medical staff but Merlin felt almost as bewildered. He could only put it down to his magic somehow helping Morgana in ways neither conscious nor known to him.
At last, the initial tests appeared to be done, the ward was still busy with people but Merlin was finally free to sit and hold Morgana's hand uninterrupted. Pondering what he was going to do, how long it might be before Morgana woke or if she would at all.
He knew that Morgana must have been treating this injury for a long time, for centuries. Surely, she could not have experienced this kind of debilitating unconsciousness regularly? Could it be that she was finally succumbing to her wound? Had he found her now only to watch her die?
There was an overwhelming amount of conflicting emotions at the thought; he didn't attempt to sort them but he gripped her hand a little firmer and probed her lifeforce. It was weakened but steady. If she was succumbing to the magical wound she was doing so slowly and if she were healing it was equally unapparent. He watched her breathe in and out. He felt exhausted from the events of yesterday and today. He did not notice the moment when his own eyes fell heavily closed, his hand enclosing hers.
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It was strange. Strange to see the walls of a castle again, not Camelot though, of this Merlin was sure.
There also lay Morgana, on a bed, covers pulled up, eyes closed. She was pale as if she were ill. Merlin discovered that he was seeing her, as if from above. He was hovering, like a bird in the corner of the room. That was, he thought, rather odd but his confusion did not seem to be a pressing concern, instead, he accepted this altogether calmly, half-aware that perhaps he was dreaming.
Morgana shifted, her eyes sprung open wide and she sat upright bringing her hands to her throat. Her face was distressed, her breath gasping. "Help me," she croaked hoarsely.
Merlin, floating in the corner of the room, did not feel the need to respond, certain someone else would.
There was a sound from the door and it swung open to reveal Morgause, hurrying to Morgana. "My sister, you're awake at last!"
Morgana shrunk slightly back. "Morguase?" she rasped, "What happened. . .where am I?"
"Don't be afraid Morgana. You're safe. You're in my home." Morgause spoke warmly. Then sitting upon the bed she spoke more gravely. "You've nothing to fear. I have used my magic to heal you though you may feel some residual discomfort in your throat."
"Heal me?" Morgana's hands were at first clasped in front of her but they moved slowly to her throat and horror washed over her face as she considered or perhaps remembered some truth to Morgause's statement.
"Yes, you were poisoned by Arthur's servant." Morgause spat, then shaking her head she spoke more thoughtfully almost to herself. "I do not know how he figured out you were the source of the spell but try not to speak. When you are recovered, we will talk more. About many things. Just know that you are safe here." She gave Morgana a reassuring smile.
Morgana, however, was alarmed, her eyes were wide and she reached out an arm to prevent Morgause from leaving, her voice was strained and scratchy but she was determined to speak. "What do you mean the source of the spell?"
Morgause did not have a chance to answer for Morgana had already formed her answer. "Everyone falling asleep, that was you? Me?"
Merlin could see Morgana was staggering with thoughts. Merlin though had but one. This was the past he was viewing.
Morgause's expression was mild, indulgent but there was an edge of uncertainty too. "Yes. It was. When you came to me it seemed a perfect opportunity to use the knights of Mehdir with less trouble and bloodshed."
Merlin, observing, could see the familiar glint of a simmering but building outburst in Morgana's eyes as she took this in.
"You put a spell on me last night? I thought I had dreamt it." Morgana shot her gaze at Morgause accusingly. "You, you didn't tell me! You used me to make everyone fall asleep, to get to Uther! I didn't know what was happening and then those knights invaded and Arthur and, and Merlin –." Morgana began to cough and held her throat.
Morgause fetched her some water. "My dear Morgana, it was not my intention to cause you distress but to follow through on your wishes."
The fire in Morgana's eyes lessened only slightly as she listened.
Morgause spoke soothingly. "You recall I asked you if you wanted Uther's downfall."
"Uther's downfall," Morgana clarified, "not Camelot's."
Morgause waved her hand dismissively, "Uther, Camelot. They are the same."
Morgana shook her head but Morgause continued. "I know you do not see that.
Your kindness to those in Camelot is to your credit but, I fear, misplaced." Morgause continued earnestly. "You have magic Morgana, they do not. It is your compassionate nature that has blinded you to the fact that as long as Uther sits on his throne the people are your enemy as well."
"No," Morgana shook her head more forcibly this time. "You are wrong, there are good people in Camelot."
"People who have stood by while countless sorcerers have been killed? People like this servant who poisoned you?" Morgause gave an expression of disgust and fury.
For a moment Morgana had looked defiant but at the mention of the poisoning, her face crumpled, her hands went to her face and she began to sob uncontrollably. "How could he?" She managed to choke out.
Morgause was discernibly surprised by Morgana's actions. Coming forward she wrapped her arms around Morgana in a sisterly manner. "I do not know how he dared poison the ward of the king!"
"You don't understand," Morgana blurted through tears. "Merlin was my friend. I . . .I trusted him. He knew I had magic, he helped me. He . . . he was different!" Morgana swallowed hard, calming slightly. "No. He couldn't have done this on purpose. Merlin couldn't have known. It must be a mistake. It wasn't Merlin that did this. It can't have been."
Morgause was staring at Morgana steadily. "There is no mistake Morgana. He showed me the poison himself."
Morgana's eyes were distant with memory. "It was in the water, he was so insistent I drink," she clutched her arms around herself. "Merlin- Merlin poisoned me."
Morgause did not notice the anguished tone Morgana had taken. Instead, the shrewd priestess's face suddenly lit with comprehension, as if a puzzle had been solved. "That's how he knew you were the source of the spell!" Turning her attention back to Morgana she expounded on her realisation. "Oh, don't you see, Morgana, the fact that this servant knew you had magic just made it easier for him to poison you. You weren't Uther's ward anymore, you were a sorceress, an enemy to Camelot."
Morgana looked shocked at first but as her thoughts processed the pain on her face increased until she gave another agonised sob.
Morgause once again looked surprised but quickly embraced her distressed sister. "Do not upset yourself, Morgana. You," Morgause lifted Morgana's chin, "have great potential for magic within you. I am certain of it. Such things will seem insignificant in time. What could a servant's betrayal be to you?"
It was clear Morgause had meant the statement to be dismissive, to demonstrate the unimportance of such a friendship, such a betrayal, but Morgana sobbed harder. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
There was no mistaking the bitterness, the regret that Morgana expressed.
Morgause halted her comforting, all incredulity as the realisation dawned. "You . . . you had feelings for this servant? This boy?" she choked on the words,
Morgana shrugged but it was as good as a confession.
"And he? He has done this when-." Morgause began her anger was increasing.
"No," Morgana shook her head. "He never cared. I only thought, hoped . . . he never cared." Morgana cried harder.
Morgause visibly disguised her horror at the thought of her sister in love with a servant and summoned with effort a veneer of calm. "I blame myself, I have left you too long in that place. It is only natural that you would feel something – " Morgause broke off unable to stomach the words. "That your goodness would seek to see the best in others and in a place such as Camelot that cannot have been easy."
"But why should you care about me?" Morgana said wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Because we are kin." Morgause had locked her gaze with Morgana full of sincerity. "Not just in magic but because we share the same mother."
Morgana looked at Morgause in wonder, then nodded slowly as if she had long known this was the truth. Her tears stopped and she took a few slow breaths.
"We will speak later." Morgause brought the blanket towards Morgana. "You must rest. Do not think of the past anymore and doubt not that this is the beginning of a great time for you Morgana. A great time."
Morganna offered a weak smile as Morgause left but it fled her lips as soon as her sister was out of sight. She fell back against the pillow. "Merlin," she whispered as a single tear ran down her cheek but she brushed it away angrily. "how could you? I trusted you. I . . . I loved you."
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Merlin woke with a gasp, his hand still resting on the hospitalised Morgana, his mind foggy, having but a second to watch dazedly as Morgana's eyes began to flutter, then open.
"Merlin?" she said more alert than he. "What are you doing here? Where am I? She looked down at her hand in his.
Merlin hastily let go of it and stood, stumbling back from her. His breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling with the knowledge and images that he had seen. A dream, a vision, a recollection, he didn't have time to process, he knew only that he had to get out of there, right now so he could think about this. "You're in hospital. Sorry, I've . . . I've got to go." Merlin stammered weakly.
He circled on the spot in some confusion.
"Go? What happened?" Morgana pushed herself up.
"You passed out," Merlin said off-handedly as he finally focused on the exit. "I'll come back. I just have, to go right now."
"Merlin!" She called with dismay and disbelief.
Merlin didn't look back, didn't stop until he had rounded a corner and entered a lift, the doors closed and he let himself sink down the wall. "I never knew," he moaned to himself. He was almost out of breath from the shock, the pain. He did not doubt that what he had witnessed had been real events, a past memory of Morgana's, the memory of what had transpired after he had poisoned her. "I never, never knew." He said again. How could he? How could he have suspected that Morgana had been in love with him!
He didn't know what to do with that realisation just yet. He instead tried to come to grips with the truth that Morgana hadn't known about being the source of the sleeping spell either, or about Morgause's plan.
All these years, all these centuries he had been aware that his poisoning of Morgana had begun or at least propelled Morgana down a path against Arthur and Camelot. Yet he had blamed her for it, for the awful guilt he had felt, for putting him in the position of making that choice, even for the anger she had harboured toward him afterwards!
Now he had to face the fact that her fear and confusion over the sleeping spell and the knights of Medhir was not an act, that Morgana had been, if not entirely innocent, far less complicit and certainly less callous than he had thought.
Then there was the crushing matter before him that if that were the case he had not just betrayed a confused friend by trying to kill her but if she'd been in love with him, broken her heart as well!
His forehead was beaded with perspiration, his eyes glassy with near shed tears. He blinked them back as he let his head fall to his knees. Why did she never tell him that she loved him?
Of course, that was a stupid question with any number of obvious answers from Uther, to Arthur to their stations and more. The bigger question was how he never noticed?
"Because you're an idiot Merlin." It was Arthur's voice.
Merlin was surprised to hear it. He had not ever found himself hearing the ghost of Arthur. It had been too painful. He was even more surprised when he lifted his head and saw a shadowy vision of his long-departed friend looking down at him, standing in the corner of the lift.
"Arthur?" Merlin said confusedly.
"So it would seem."
"You're not really here." Merlin shook his head.
"Kind of looks like I am." Arthur made an amused face.
"Well of course you are!" Merlin got to his feet in agitation. "I mean Morgana's back from the dead, Aithusa is out there somewhere too. So why not throw your return into all of this? I'm sure Merlin can handle it. It's not like his sanity is teetering on the edge after waiting, well only a thousand years, for your return!"
The apparition of Arthur leaned in with a slight grimace. "You're upset."
Merlin folded his arms, calming. "Yes obviously."
"I could always tell, you know."
"No you couldn't. You were too busy being an arrogant prat."
Arthur frowned. "I think I deserve a better insult than that after all these years."
"You're only half there," Merlin added off-handedly, sagging against the wall.
Arthur gave a dismissive shrug. "Well that may be so but-"
"That was not a reference to your appearance," Merlin quipped.
Arthur gave Merlin a lopsided squint and wobbled his hand in a half-half movement. "That's a little better, needs work."
"Yeah well, I've got other things on my mind, like my sanity." Merlin shot 'Arthur' an unnerved glance.
"You're not crazy Merlin. Well not any crazier than before. Would it make you feel any better if I said I was really here, returned in Albion's darkest hour, so you can set things right?"
"Not really," Merlin grumbled but it did. The possibility, however small, that things could be set right in some sort of way was what Merlin desperately wanted to believe.
Arthur shrugged. "Okay, I'm a hallucination then."
Merlin was silent for a long moment. "Do you really think I could set things right? There's been so much suffering Arthur. So much evil. I've made so many bad choices."
Arthur was silent a moment. "You're the greatest sorcerer that ever lived, aren't you?"
Merlin caught Arthur's slightly bitter tone and winced. "Still sore about the sorcerer bit?"
"A little bit," Arthur admitted. "But seriously, I do believe in you Merlin. We all made mistakes, Morgana as well but you'll do what's right when the time comes."
Merlin shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean by that? When what time comes?"
Arthur simply offered a slight smile of encouragement before nodding towards the doors of the lift.
Merlin's sight only shifted for a moment from Arthur, enough to acknowledge the opening of the doors but when he looked back the shadowy image of Arthur had disappeared.
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Merlin stepped from the lift. He could have sworn it had been on its way down and yet he was on the same floor as he had left. He stood there confusedly staring at the lift's display.
"Mr Emrys?" A doctor he met earlier broached him. "I was just coming to see Anna but it's probably better if we talk first."
Merlin immediately felt uneasy about this.
"I don't how long you've been married to Anna or how long you've known her," the doctor began his preamble.
Merlin didn't respond, hours of a fake marriage and centuries of knowing her seemed somewhat unwise to mention.
"But are you aware of her medical history at all?"
Merlin shrugged trying not to be too specific or too evasive. "I know some portion. Why?"
"I'll come straight to the point Mr Emrys. The injury in Anna's side, she's been admitted to hospital with it before. It's reoccurring and the reason for that seems to be that Anna is doing it to herself. In fact, she was institutionalised five years ago for it, during that time she had several relapses despite significant measures to prevent it and apparently, she left the facility without being formally discharged. She went by another name at the time but it was definitely her. The wound is identical as is her description."
Merlin was appalled, not by Morgana's using a different alias or by her escape but by the fact that she had been institutionalised for an injury she had no power over. Morgana wasn't doing this to herself at all, she was simply fighting to heal a wound that had deep magic bound into it. She couldn't be cured of something she had no control over.
"I can see you weren't aware of that but the reason I inform you is that on that basis we'd like to move Anna to the mental health ward, it's a more secure area -"
"I'd rather she stayed in the current ward," Merlin argued. He came to the conclusion that leaving Morgana in the hospital was going to be very problematic.
"She can't get the help she needs there." The doctor was firm and frowning.
Merlin could see this was not a matter of asking his permission. There was no point arguing, he'd dealt with authorities all his life, he knew how they could be but Merlin had never been one to accept defeat or to take much notice of hierarchy. Merlin opened his mouth to speak when he heard a scream from further down the hall. It was Morgana's.
Merlin and the doctor ran towards the room. Morgana was struggling to get out of her bed and fighting off a few nurses rather ineffectively. "Get away from me, I know what you are doing. I won't go."
There was a glow in her eyes of magic and Merlin feared what was coming next but only the water glass nearby cracked. There was nothing more, no shattering of glass windows, no nursing staff thrown across the room. Morgana's knees were giving way and her eyes were large and distressed, they scanned the room searching for help until they finally landed on Merlin. With gigantic effort, she broke free of the nurses and weakly reached for him. "Merlin, please."
Merlin had already come towards her. He held her against him and looked towards the doctor and nurses. "Let me speak with her. Please just, just give us a minute." Merlin may not have looked over a thousand years old at a casual glance but there were times when he was able to command authority because he was. It might have been something in his eyes or his tone or perhaps it just seemed the more prudent thing to do but the staff agreed, stepping back to the edge of the room but within sight.
Merlin helped Morgana back to the bed and she reluctantly sat but she still had a hold of him, clutching his shirt.
"You shouldn't have brought me here." She whispered woefully. "I would have been alright in while."
Merlin whispered back. "I didn't have much choice in the matter, you passed out in the café. There was blood. You were convulsing."
"Convulsing?" For the briefest of moments confusion passed over her face but her expression quickly returned to one who looked hunted. "Please Merlin, you have to get me out of here, they'll never let me go until they get to the bottom of this . . . until I heal. I - I will never heal," her eyes darted to the medical staff and back as she whispered, "it's an old wound from the old ways. Do you understand?" Desperation had engaged all her features.
Merlin felt his stomach churn. Of course, he understood, the sword he had driven angrily into her had been forged in a dragon's breath. He'd tried to save Arthur from a similar wound, he'd failed. "I understand completely." His words were flat and toneless keeping the regret he felt from being expressed.
"Oh, I see," Morgana's hands retracted from his promptly, "I should have known."
Merlin read it in her withdrawal from him, the cold wall that went up. He realised that she believed that he would be glad to have her imprisoned and suffering. She was wrong, he couldn't let her think that. He shook his head and took her hands in his. "No. that's not what I meant. Whatever has happened between us," he sighed, searching for what exactly he felt, what he wanted to say, uncertain he settled for "I didn't want you to suffer."
He was aware the doctors and nurses were possibly within earshot though they were murmuring among themselves. He lowered his voice. "It will be okay, I promise it will." He stared into her eyes willing her to understand him, then he leaned in alongside her ear and whispered. "I won't leave you here. I'll get you out." As he pulled back from his position, he took her face in his hands to see if she believed him. "You just have to go along with it for now."
She was a picture of fear and mistrust. There was barely a thought in his head as bent his head again and kissed her forehead. "It will be okay, I promise."
This time as he straightened, he could see only astonishment in her face and there was a large part of himself that shared in it.
She nodded slowly.
Merlin stood and acceded to the medical staff, who were already making a move to intervene.
Morgana lay herself back against the bed as they prepared to move her. As she was wheeled past him, she gave him a parting glance full of appeal. "I am trusting you, Merlin."
Considering the history that had passed between them it was an astounding thing and an enormous burden. Morgana putting such faith in him, even with doubts was a precarious thing. Merlin knew that if he failed her there would never be a truce between them, there would be no peace until one of them was dead. He had given himself no choice but to succeed.
Only Merlin just didn't quite yet know how.
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Merlin had been allowed to follow Morgana to the mental health ward. He had seen the doors that opened only via the button, controlled by the nurse's station. He'd been informed of the sign-in procedure for visitors and he'd noticed the CCTV cameras. He'd also been told that visiting hours were over.
He had hoped to get another chance to speak to Morgana about her injury but he did not. He was only able to send promise that he would return via a nurse.
He was one for making spare of the moment offers of help that he frequently didn't have a clue how to fulfil.
He had no idea what to expect in terms of Morgana's strength during an escape if he could plan one. She had been living with the injury for centuries but what that meant he still did not know. Had her healing powers failed her temporarily? The doctor seemed to have indicated that in the past Morgana's healing process had waxed and waned. How well did she ever become? How long did her healing last? All things that would have made an escape plan a lot easier too. . . well, plan. It was not particularly encouraging that Morgana had used such a mammoth amount of power only yesterday and yet this morning she had collapsed.
Merlin remembered that there was something that had bothered him about the wound, something he had felt when he first examined it, something about the magic within it that disturbed him. He brushed the hair out of his eyes tiredly. Perhaps it was only that it reminded him so much of Arthur's last moments and the very similar wound.
It was puzzling that she had survived at all. A dragon's magic would be no match for her own, even with her healing bracelet and her considerable powers, yet here she was. It demanded explanation and Merlin was determined he would get one, once he got Morgana out of here.
There was that problem again. He looked up from his thoughts, the hospital exit was not far. He felt reluctant to face it, it seemed wrong to go home, to normality while Morgana was here but what else was there to do? He slowed, watching the myriad of persons, that entered and exited. Patients, visitors and staff bustled in the foyer, ignoring him and his distress, filled with their own concerns, feeling maybe the same way as he did, as if hospitals were a world of their own disconnected from reality somehow. The surreality of it all was broken for a moment as he moved out of the way of an elderly man struggling to push his wife along in a wheelchair.
Merlin stopped and turned promptly. "Would you like some help?" he offered.
"Oh thank you, young man, would you?" The elderly man gave over his charge to Merlin. "We're not going far, just to the surgery room there at the end."
Merlin pushed the wheelchair the distance.
"Thank you again so much," said the lady invalid. "It is hard to be old. Everyone is so busy with their own affairs and sometimes you get the feeling you're invisible."
Merlin thought of the many times he'd used the aging spell for that reason. "I know exactly what you mean." Merlin nodded.
He left the couple at the designated door, pondering life and death, youth and age and as he stepped through the hospital exit, the misery that had etched itself in his expression disappeared and a mischievous smile spread over his face.
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