As he opened his eyes, Merlin felt happier and more at peace than he could ever remember. A huge burden of guilt had been lifted from his shoulders, and his estrangement from Morgana was finally over. He was so eager to let her know how he felt, that he started to speak, unaware that she had silently withdrawn from them. "It's so nice to..." he began, before catching Mordred's eye, who was shaking his head at him, his expression ominous. Then he realized what had happened, and saw Morgana standing alone in the centre of the dismal hall, as if in her own circle of hell.
"What have I done?" she exclaimed in horror, the blood slowly draining from her face as reality dawned. Images of murder and torture that she had previously viewed through Morgause's distorting filter now burst upon her with their full significance, jostling for pre-eminence in her restored mind.
"Morgana..." he said, taking a step towards her.
"Don't touch me," she recoiled. "Oh, what have I done?" she wailed again. "How could I have..." She stopped in despair, tears streaming down her cheeks."
"You couldn't. You didn't. You weren't responsible for what happened."
"Tell that to the people I killed. And their families."
"You were not to blame."
"No one will believe that."
"They will. Everyone knows what an enchantment can do."
She shrugged, a gesture of hopelessness, and walked away. At the door, she turned and said softly. "You'd better go back to Camelot. Tell them I'm sorry."
"This is going to take longer than I thought," Mordred said, as Morgana's footsteps receded in the distance.
"I never thought it would be easy," Merlin replied. "In fact, it has gone far better than I expected." But we must get a message to Arthur as soon as possible to let him know we'll be delayed."
"Let's send a raven at once then. I'm sure Morgana won't mind if we borrow one of hers," Mordred smirked.
The following morning, Morgana was awoken from a restless night of troubled dreams by a familiar, cheerful voice calling out, "Breakfast, My Lady." For a moment she imagined herself back in Camelot, as if the last few years had never happened. She opened her eyes, and sat up sleepily in her makeshift bed to see Merlin depositing a tray laden with food onto the table. He turned and smiled at her, lifting an eyebrow. "Or would you prefer it in bed?"
Her eyes widened, and a gleam of humour flashed before her expression darkened again.
"I am not ill, Merlin. Of course I will get up. You may leave it there."
He nodded and turned to go, but she stopped him by speaking again.
"It won't work, you know. Nice try, but a decent breakfast isn't going to make me change my mind. I'm never coming back."
He seemed unfazed by her announcement. "You haven't tasted my cooking yet," he joked. "And we can wait till you're ready. We're in no hurry."
"That will be never, then. And you have to return soon. Arthur needs you, doesn't he?"
"Arthur needs all of us. Including you."
She scoffed. "Come off it, Merlin. What can I possibly do for him that you and Mordred can't?"
At that, Merlin smiled, a slow, tantalizing smile. "Well, as it happens, there is something that you alone can help him – and all of us with..."
"What?" she asked, torn between disbelief and curiosity.
"You can solve a great mystery, something that has defeated the greatest minds of the age...well, mine, Mordred's, and Gaius' anyway," he laughed.
"What mystery? And how do you know that I can help?"
He grinned again. "Ah, that would be telling," he said over his shoulder, strolling nonchalantly to the door. An illusion of a strange, disc-shaped entity hovered above her bed for a second, before dissolving into thin air.
"Merlin!" she exploded. "What was that? Get back here this instant!"
"Like brother, like sister," he quipped, ducking as her pillow flew towards him. "You and Arthur should compare notes."
"How did it go?" Mordred asked, stopping his pacing of the corridor outside, as Merlin exited Morgana's chamber at a run. "Did you manage to persuade her?"
Merlin leaned against the wall, groaning with laughter. He took a moment to recover his composure. "Not yet, but I think I may have succeeded in rousing her curiosity," he replied, keeping an absolutely straight face, before another hearty laugh escaped him.
The look that Mordred directed at him was penetrating. "You can thank me later," he said, his voice full of amusement.
"Thank you? What for? Oh... that. Well, nothing happened."
"But it will, Merlin. It will. It just needs time."
They took turns to serve Morgana after that, replacing the thugs and hangers on that had been attending her. The breakthrough they thought they'd achieved was short lived, as she was polite but distant towards them, and she showed no inclination to change her mind. It was clear that she had considered this the best way to encourage them to leave, and she had clamped down on her curiosity, making no further reference to the illusion created by Merlin. A stricken look would often come into her eyes, and they knew she was reliving past events, overcome by guilt and remorse.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Merlin asked one evening, after they had finished eating, and she was about to retreat to the safety of her chamber again.
"What is there to say? I killed so many, and so many more have suffered because of me. Annis was right. I'm no better than Uther!" she said in a voice of utter self-loathing. "I have become the thing I despise most in all the world."
"That's not true," Mordred replied hotly, his sincerity undeniable. "None of it was your fault."
Merlin's response was calm, but equally sincere. "You are not like him at all. You were always kind and just and caring when you were not enchanted. That is the real you; the rest was Morgause."
"I should have fought against the enchantment," she exclaimed. "I should have done something."
"What could you have done? You didn't even know it was there. And it took all three of us to break it, remember?"
Their trust, persistence and logic was beginning to have an impact on her, and they could feel her wavering, but they could see that she was not yet ready to yield.
Mordred changed the subject abruptly. "Shall we play a game?"
Merlin stared at him, momentarily speechless, while Morgana laughed, it was so unexpected.
"A game; what do you have in mind?"
"A game of magic, naturally. What other kind of game could there be?"
"Oh, I don't know, swords, perhaps," Morgana smirked. "I'm sure that Merlin would love that."
Merlin pouted in mock disapproval and held up his hands. "If you warriors are going to play with swords, I withdraw. I get quite enough of that from Arthur."
"Alright, magic it is, then. What do you propose, Mordred?" she asked. "What's this fabulous idea of yours?"
Mordred grinned. "I'll start," he said, "with something simple." Focusing his energy, he stayed absolutely still, apart from the merest flicker of gold visible in his eyes, as he levitated the jug of wine off the table and flew it into place to refill the goblets of his companions. The amber liquid flowed into the empty receptacles, before the jug returned to its original position, landing without a sound or spilling a drop in the process.
"Why, thank you," Morgana purred, raising her goblet in salute, before bringing it to her lips and drinking deeply. She seemed to find the beverage refreshing, and it was as if the years fell away, as she turned to the others eagerly, all thoughts of the past suspended. "But that's child's play, Mordred. Try this for size."
They could see the moment her plans changed from whatever irreverent project she'd first had in mind. They heard her short intake of breath, and felt her sudden awareness of what she must do, as if she was receiving instructions from afar. She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. They waited as she concentrated, drawing the energy from deep within herself. Her eyes opened, blazing gold, and as she slowly opened her palms, they could see that she was holding a small, white egg, which she carefully placed on the table between them.
Almost at once, the first crack appeared, and to the accompaniment of tiny thuds, a wing protruded from the disintegrating shell. Little by little, the battle to escape the confines of its former home was being won, and the hatchling owl finally emerged, exhausted from its struggles, to lie in slumber on its side. Morgana gently picked it up and stroked it with a finger, before presenting it to Merlin.
"It is yours," she said. "Look after it well. You should call it Archie."
""I will," he vowed, extending a hand to receive the gift, and as the slight, vulnerable creature passed between them, they all knew that something of unimaginable significance had just taken place. Merlin carefully placed the baby owl within his breast pocket, and as it felt his warmth, the fledgling knew it was safe and had found its new home.
It was Morgana who recovered first from the sombre, almost trance-like state that subsequently fell upon them, as she determinedly shook off the awe she was feeling, and decided to lighten the mood.
"Well, Emrys? It's your turn," she challenged him, only half in jest. "What delights do you have in store for us?"
Merlin inclined his head in consideration of her request. Then wordlessly he stood and gestured dramatically for effect, his eyes sparkling gold, after which he resumed his seat, leaned back in his chair, and waited.
"Err, Merlin," Mordred said after a while. "Nothing seems to be happening.
"Patience," Merlin laughed, as a troop of brightly-clad musicians filed in and took up positions in a semi circle before them. The lead singer approached Morgana, bowed and presented her with a single red rose. Then they struck up an air that she had loved since childhood, a song which extolled the glories of nature, and which had stimulated her youthful imagination. As they sang of sunlit meadows and fairy groves, of waves crashing against the rocks, and wild horses galloping over the sands, she was mesmerized, enthralled by the beauty of the rendition, and the powerful memories of childhood innocence it evoked. She remembered Gorlois, who she still thought of as her father in every way that was important, and the loving memories were strangely healing. As the last haunting note of the song died away, she sat stunned for a moment. Then she turned to Merlin in wonder, mouthing "How did you...?"
Before Merlin had a chance to reply, the lutanist played the opening bars of the next song - the first of the airs that Mordred knew of old, airs often heard around the fire in the camps of the Druids, airs of hope and prophecy, that had sustained them through the bleakest of times, airs that foretold the return of magic and the coming of the Golden Age – the time they were now living through. Mordred had heard the songs many times, but never quite like this. The quality of the musicians was such that the soaring melodies and inspiring lyrics brought tears to his eyes. He too was overcome by potent and irresistible memories, and a sudden, sharp and painful longing for someone that had shared these experiences with him. He resolved to do something about it, if it wasn't already too late.
"Thank you," Merlin said gravely to the musicians. Then he waved a hand, and they disappeared in a puff of smoke.
"Show off." But tears pricked Morgana's eyes too.
"What? How did you..." Mordred struggled to express his astonishment. "Was that an illusion, or did you translocate them here?"
"Ah, that would be telling," Merlin grinned at them. "I thought you might like some entertainment, but you can't expect me to give away any trade secrets."
"We'll see about that," Morgana retorted. "That's the second time you've said that to me. We have ways of making you talk, you know."
"Oh yes?" Merlin sounded genuinely interested. "You are welcome to try."
"Really?" Morgana breathed, leaning in closer.
"Definitely."Merlin replied, moving imperceptibly towards her.
Mordred, satisfied with his evening's work, and judging it an appropriate time to retire, pushed his chair back, stood up and bade them goodnight. He made towards the door, but had to take a step back in surprise as someone entered in such great haste that he narrowly avoided being knocked to the ground. Instead, he found himself face to face with Arthur Pendragon.