Destiny Begins
by Milui Elenath
Chapter Four
Morgana had been trying to appear as if she were asleep. She was doing her best to focus all of her magic on healing and to gather enough strength to leave whenever the opportunity arose. . . that was if Merlin came good on his promise and ever returned.
She tried to repress the shame that came bubbling up when she thought of the way she had behaved in front of him, pleading for his help like some sort of maiden in distress. She thought she had been rid of such vulnerability centuries ago but then again, the events, the centuries since had changed her so much. She sighed, she wasn't sure who she was anymore, someone that was neither the frightened Lady Morgana nor the aloof High priestess - not that she had managed to rid herself of either lot of memories.
She was sure that she still did not like relying on other people for her safety but she had little choice. In years past she may simply have thrown the medical staff aside with her magic and teleported out, but her abilities were beset by the severity of her wound. She had known her chosen actions would increase its hold but she had thought, or rather hoped, that the effort she made yesterday would have lasted longer. Long enough.
Aithusa had convinced her to try. Poor Aithusa.
Morgana really must get out of here, somehow find the strength. She rubbed her bare wrist missing the feel of her healing bracelet. It did nothing for her wound but it did help her sleep more peacefully. The healing bracelet had been placed somewhere with the rest of her belongings, she'd been told. She had a feeling that Merlin had been given them.
Merlin.
What a puzzle that man was. Had always been. His feelings towards her had seemed clear enough this morning, extreme resentment at best. After everything, she had not really expected more and she had feared a lot worse. Yet he had come to the hospital with her, had stayed with her, seemed to have been mistaken for her husband and had promised to help her and without any manipulation on her part.
Not that she'd had time to manipulate him. In the brief moments after the disastrous reunion in the café, she had decided that it would be best to go back to her newly placed tent at the festival and strategize. She had thought it would be difficult to find a way to coerce Merlin to take part in her larger plan but yet here he was, bestowing that good-natured smile on her, helping her get out of this jam that she had inadvertently ended up in. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult . . . if she got out of here.
She'd been trying to ignore her current situation, the terror it evoked, the overwhelming scream inside of her, the crushing, plunging, desperate need to run. No one but herself understood why any incarceration was so horrific. She squeezed her eyes shut against the image of the darkened well enclosed around her and angrily forced herself to focus on the problem of Merlin.
He'd been the source of her fire for so long, the heartbreak he'd unthinkingly, carelessly, given her, along with the poison hemlock. It had made her hate him for the pain he caused and in turn, she had hated all those he loved. Why couldn't she evoke that love or at least that friendship from him that others got so easily? Was she to be denied all because she had magic? Or so she had thought at the time. Even in the confusion that followed learning that Merlin had magic she had not lost that sense of betrayal, that desire to hurt him back. The anger that his pity was never extended to her. The memory of that pain had made her strong. It had sustained her anger and that had helped her overcome her fears, her loneliness and given her purpose but that anger had been fading for a long time. Now she was faced with trusting him again, receiving in some small way his pity was now robbing her of that fire she needed. She gave a cold shiver, perhaps the Cailleach had spoken true, Emrys really was going to be her doom and a stray thought added defeatedly that it might be for the best.
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