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Chapter 5 – Magic

It was late at night when Morgan pulled herself up in her bed. The fur slid off her body and the static air of the room hit her bare skin in a cool embrace. She sighed with a spent smile, curling her toes as she stood up, slowly walking toward the wide wardrobe in the corner.

Morgan opened the closet doors and stood in silence as the fire from the mantel cast flickering shadows on the shelves inside. Dozens of weird looking bottles reflected the light upon the glass surfaces, half-hidden behind twigs of dry flowers and herbs tied up in ropes.

Her blue eyes, dilated because of the darkness, wondered on the ledge where a fine assemblage of daggers stood aligned; she marveled for a moment at those shining blades, and then she finally took what she needed: she grasped the mortar, some herbs, a bag with black dust in it and, last, a long porcupine quill.

She settled everything down on the rug in front of the mantel and took a cup from the counter, spilling wine it had inside between the dancing flames. The fire crackled and she filled the cup back with some clear water; then, she put the cup down too.

Morgan then smiled, the drowsiness now completely gone and sat on the edge of the bed where, on the usually empty side, now laid Igraine, flat on her stomach. The woman stood immotile for a moment, taking her in, basking into the quietness of her regular breaths, the smoothness of her pale skin, somewhat more bronzed than hers, still. She could clearly see the bumps of her spine protruding from her skin and she could immediately remember the softness of her flesh against her own, how her fingers had savored every inch of her skin.

She felt a sense of inquietude thinking she would have to damage her body, but then she reminded herself that it wouldn't even show: it was just a small pricking. She pressed the pointy quill on the small of her back, just above the hips, trying to be as gentle as she could.

Igraine stirred, but she didn't wake up.

Morgan let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and collected the small drop of blood with her thumb, then drew the covers up on the woman's naked body.

She rose from the bed and knelt in front of the fire, pouring everything she needed into the mortar, slowly mixing and smashing all the things she had collected from the closet. When it had become subtle dust, she emptied the content of the mortar into the cup and stirred the mixture with the blood-stained porcupine quill.

She stirred for what it seemed like hours, each swirl enhancing invisible energy that built from within her body. It expanded from her core to her limbs, crowding her head with blurred images of the past, present, and future, wolves at hunt, men dying on the battlefields, bloody crowns and broken swords, the sun chasing the moon in the sky and the night chasing the day in return.

When that infinite swirl of thoughts turned into a delicious nothingness, Morgan tried to ease her breaths, feeling both spent and elated. She gripped the cup with both hands and gulped avidly down its content, fearing some bitter taste she might not like.

She felt her stomach constricting and she fought off the urge to hurl. When Morgan finally could get a hold of herself, she smiled triumphantly, standing slowly onto her feet and leaving all her tools behind, soon forgotten on the rug.

She walked back toward the bed, her footsteps barely audible as she practically slid on the floor, striding lightly as she approached the sleeping woman like a wolf hunting into the woods. She stared, her eyes unmoving, and then finally sat on the edge of the mattress, a mischievous smirk deforming her lips.

Morgan drew the blankets from Igraine's body once again. The other stirred and turned her head to the other side, a peaceful expression still lingering on her face. The younger woman let her hand hover above her back, letting her skin absorb all that invisible energy reverberating from that body untouched by magic, so far.

Morgan allowed herself to finally touch her skin and her sharp nails grazed lightly between her shoulder blades and she trailed down, with an annoyingly slow pace, feeling every bump of her spine until she reached the small of her back, where she pressed deliberately more, just to switch back to her palm as Igraine started to wake up, and her hand would now just linger on her hip.

The younger woman stilled, her smile widening as she watched Igraine coming out from her slumber, turning lazily over, deliciously unafraid and dissolute to show Morgan her bare body. The other blinked, trying to catch any sign of repulsion or astonishment or both, as memories of the previous hours would surely come to her mind, but surprisingly, Igraine smiled back at her peacefully, looking as content as she could be.

Then, her face crumpled up with worry.

Morgan flinched, taken aback by that unexpected reaction.

"You're bleeding." Igraine simply stated, frowning with intent as she pulled herself into a half-sitting position to inspect her face from up close.

Morgan averted her glance; she felt something streaming down her cheek and she immediately put her hand over her face, wiping off some red tears with her fingers. She still felt the sticky fluid on her skin but tried not to show any discomfort.

"It's nothing." She reassured dismissively and leaned forward, her mouth already searching hers, eager to forget everything and enjoy the rest of the night in her company.

Igrane, however, proved herself to be much more alert than she awaited and escaped her kiss, continuing to stare right at her.

"Morgan, you're bleeding." She repeated, this time, her voice was stern and so was her glance.

Morgan felt her hand cupping her cheek, then she wiped off some more drops with her thumb. She looked at her without emotion as she studied the blood on her pad.

"It only happens when I use my gift." She explained, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. Morgan knew that maybe she should've avoided talking about her powers with her, but at that point, she didn't see why: Igraine knew what she could do and by now, she probably had guessed her affiliation with the dark forces easily. It wasn't something to be ashamed of. Her powers gave her strength and control, Igraine could only appreciate that quality.

The former queen frowned and blinked in befuddlement, and Morgan could also detect a pale shadow of fright into her eyes. It made her sad to see her scared of her, she shouldn't have been, not of her nor of her powers.

"Witchcraft?" She asked in a whisper, to which her voice cracked. Morgan wasn't sure if she had to confirm her words, or she had to explain to her what she was doing and why, so maybe she could understand and embrace everything she was. "Why did you use it?"

Morgan took a deep breath at those words, maybe that was a good start to explain. After all, they had the same purpose, they wanted the same things. And she knew that Igraine, despite her will to show otherwise, was drawn to her ideal kingdom just as much as she was; despite telling otherwise, she wanted to make it happen just as much as she wanted.

"Because you told me so." She revealed with an elated smile.

Igraine frowned even more, her brain struggling to put order into that bundle of swirling thoughts that were now crowding her mind. She had always recoiled at the mention of dark magic and sorcery; witches were burnt at the stake and she thought it was normal – then Merlin came and he was the first one that everyone accepted as gifted, showing her that not all magic was bad if used for the right cause.
Morgan was different, she had always been different: she was using it to deceive people, to gain power and be victorious. All for the crown, for a kingdom that would be hers. Maybe her cause was right, but she wasn't using her gift in the right way, so how could she be the one to advise her to use sorcery or witchcraft?

"When?" She asked, almost out of breath. Her head was spinning and, for a moment, she feared Morgan was bewitching her with some sort of spell. She felt scared and worried, she wanted to run away and forget everything and yet her body didn't seem to move, her eyes constantly searching for her own, her very face enough for Igraine to be unwilling to go. Why did she have to be so complicated? "Morgan, what are you doing?"

The other continued to stare, her smile undying. If Igraine didn't know her, she would easily tell she was delusional, her whole person unreasonably happy when the situation was quite serious and grievous.

"I'm taking your advice, Igraine. You told me how to become queen." Morgan simply stated, shifting closer to her, her blue eyes, completely black now, locked on the slight quivering of the other's pale lips. "This kingdom needs a leader, but most of all, it needs an heir. Someone with my strength and brain and with your heart and charm. Someone the whole Britannia will respect and trust."

Igraine was positively looking at her like she was delusional, Morgan didn't care but instead, something in her voice forced the former queen to stop and think. For a moment, she considered if she was indeed right if that was the solution to all their problems. She wished that Arthur had all those qualities, but he didn't and neither Morgan, for how much she tried, she could never suffocate her nature entirely – yes, a third part would've been ideal, but Morgan didn't seem willing to just produce an heir, she wanted them to produce one, and that was impossible, if not insane. Was she just delusional or arrogant or both?

"Morgan, it doesn't work that way." She shook her head, trying to reason with her and yet the other seemed to be still so confident.

"Why?" She asked in a dim voice, drawing her face even closer to her. Igraine could feel her breath crashing against her slightly parted lips. "I can do anything, our fate is mine for the taking." Morgan shifted closer to her and her hands went to swiftly grab her face, cupping it firmly."Didn't you want a better Britannia? Can't you see how simple it is?"

Igraine could feel her nails stinging the back of her ears, but she didn't move. Of course, she wanted a peaceful and strong kingdom, somewhere the people could live happily and unafraid of what's to come. But that, it seemed impossible. Could she really do it? Was she really that gifted to be able to fulfill her most inconceivable wishes? Even create life itself? Merlin often talked about consequences, about personal pain and sufferance, Morgan never seemed to lament anything, not if it served to achieve her goal. She was so determined, much more than anyone at Camelot, and so beautifully fearless.

Igraine studied her face for a moment. She was so close to her that she could almost feel the heat of her body calling for hers. Could she really indulge her? See how far her powers could go? Taste if her magic could do miracles? Morgan, she could do anything if she wanted something bad enough.

"You're-" Igraine trailed off immediately, suddenly realizing that she didn't even know what she wanted to say. Was she about to join her or try to persuade her to take a different road? Was it even worth it, when she had already decided everything?

"Powerful." Morgan finished for her, a proud smile curving her lips, few inches apart from her own. "That's the word you're looking for." She said, her voice somewhat luring. "And with you by my side, I will also be invincible." Morgan paused, nibbling at her own lip as she drew herself even closer to the other woman's body. "Will you help me, Igraine? We'll build this kingdom together."

Igraine struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. At this point, she didn't even care if that woman in front of her was using magic tricks to deceive her, tempting her with speeches about a great future for Britannia just to get her to her side. Igraine already knew she was on her side and if Morgan would ask her, she would stay by her side too, for as long as she drew breath.

Igraine stared at her luscious lips, transfixed; then, she imperceptibly nodded.

"Yes." She whispered, breathing against her mouth. "I will." She stated and for the first time, it was Igraine to lean forward, searching blindly for her lips to kiss her.

Morgan immediately enhanced the contact, unwilling to lay hints and clues like she did the previous night, the first time they shared together. She wanted to have all and thus fulfill her will as she took everything from her, giving also everything in return.

Deep down, she knew she'd never hated Igraine. That woman always scared her, as her mother used to, in a way; but she wasn't her mother. She had been her father's wife and only now she realized that she envied her, her position, her dominance, which she showed quietly, with just a glance. Morgan envied her because deep down she wanted to be like her, but more: she didn't want to be just the king's wife, she wanted to become queen, period. And with Igraine by her side, she would become just that.

An heir with her strength who could charm even the strongest warrior with just a glare. A perfect leader for the most powerful nation that would ever exist.

Morgan didn't break the kiss, not even when her lungs were burning painfully, claiming for air. She pushed her body against Igraine's sighing as their skins melted together.

She finally pulled away, her breathing uneven as she stared into Igraine's clear eyes getting darker by the seconds. Morgan smiled, her lips parted, as her hands dropped from her face to her neck, tracing parallel paths as she moved along her arms until she reached her hands. Their fingers intertwined immediately and they both smiled at the perfect fit.

Morgan kissed her, nibbling lightly at her lower lip as she leaned against her, gently pushing her body back onto the mattress. They were both engulfed by a tangle of silky linens and furs and she would keep her hand in hers, secured in her hold as she pinned Igraine down on the bed.

She easily took over her, sliding gently above her until Morgan found herself straddling her naked body, which trembled in anticipation beneath her. She bent down to assault her mouth and moved almost right away, leaving Igraine panting in complain. Her lips cherished every inch of her heated skin, nibbling at her flesh as she explored her body, from her neck down to her chest.

Morgan pushed herself nearer to the other woman, causing their tender skins to glide together. She unwillingly squeezed Igraine's hips between her knees, making her slightly jolt forward, enhancing their closeness.

Igraine's eyes fell shut under the woman's administrations. She could almost hear her long nails gripping at the linens beyond her very hands, which would rustle under her claws. The former queen felt completely trapped and yet she had no wish to be free from such unexpected and pleasant restriction. She tugged with intent until Morgan finally gave in and released one of her hand.

Igraine immediately dug her fingers into her ebony locks, so luscious and soft against her skin. She drew her lips to her and kissed her passionately. Was she really doting a sorceress? The previous hours she spent by her side had been abashed, the very thought of being with her step-daughter, who threatened the lives of many, both recoiling and dangerously attractive. She had always been a woman of the light, while Morgan, she was a mistress of the dark.

How could she not be drawn by it? Even if it wasn't right, even if it wasn't honest, she wondered what would it feel like to actually win after weeks of planning, machinations, threats, deals, and deceptions, to overtake the enemy after hard work in the shadows with one special element that nobody could foresee. She could be part of the most successful plan in history. Arthur was never meant to be king and they weren't planning his murder – he would have a good position into her realm, maybe even Morgan's champion. She would love to have him under her grasp all the time, but for him, that would've been a blessing. Merlin would finally have his kingdom to supervise. Everyone would be fine. And if that wasn't just a great, insane lie, she would have finally had a child of her own to raise at somebody's side. Somebody who would treat her as equal, indispensable, even. Of course, Morgan would never lie about her only possibility to take the crown. How easy could be to believe her? She knew her powers, she knew her dedication, there was nothing she couldn't have. Was it so easy to be happy by her side? Would it last forever? She was certainly feeling happy now, within her embrace.

Wasn't fate strange or so incredibly ironic, that the girl who refused her love was now longing for it? That the woman who had feared was now the one cradling her, seeking for her kisses?

Morgan moved above her, the welcoming friction between their bodies enthralling, sending waves of delicious nothingness into her mind as a familiar, tingling sensation pooled at the pit of her stomach.

She gripped her hand tightly as she squirmed beneath her, eager to feel more. Igraine struggled to follow the rhythmic pace of her movements and took advantage of Morgan's temporary state of unconscious bliss to move her leg above her hip. She sighed at the new sensation and, immediately, Morgan's eyes snapped open, glimmering into the dark. Her mouth was parted into a silent gasp as she continued to glide above her, her speed increasing encouraged by the new closeness.

Igraine tugged again at her hair to join their lips into a burning kiss. Morgan gladly obliged her once again, slumping her body against hers as she strove to fight the waves of utter pleasure that shook her from within.

When she felt the woman tremble beneath her, she buried her face in the crook of her neck, finally welcoming the building heat from her core, letting it explode as she reached her peak, their hearts splendidly racing at the same, frantic speed.

Morgan searched blindly for her lips to kiss her again as she relaxed above her, completely spent. Igraine held her tightly as her breathing slowed down, then pulled the covers over their intertwined bodies.

Igraine stared at the dark ceiling as the fire crackled. Could that be it? She never felt she belonged there, at Castle Pendragon before, not with Uther by her side; but now, as Morgan drifted to sleep within her arms, her scented hair titillating her nose, she really felt home.

...

Igraine frowned when she woke up the morning after due to the sun. She imagined not to be very early because the light was rather strong, but not too late, for the castle seemed quite silent still. She inhaled deeply and found out she could breathe easily, so she reluctantly opened her eyes, just to realize that bed and most of all her arms were unpleasantly empty.

She searched for the discarded cloth hanging on the bedpost and wrapped herself in it; she intended to search for Morgan.

Igraine didn't have to wait long, because when she was about to exit the room, the door flew open and Morgan came in and closed at once the world outside those chambers.

Her feet were muddy, her hands red and covered in scratches, her thin camisole ripped at the end, and yet she was smiling contently, her blue eyes at complete peace.

"Where have you been?" Inquired the former queen, walking steadily to her. Of course, she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from her lips. "Morgan-" She gasped when she finally closed distances with her: her left ear was bleeding copiously, the blood still streaming down her neck, staining the white clothe she was wearing.

"Yes?" She asked innocently, slipping one hand behind her neck, trying to pull her in into a kiss.

Igraine flinched back, gripping her shoulders tightly. She dug her fingers into her flesh, but Morgan stood immotile, glancing her back with a peaceful smile.

"You need to end this." Demanded Igraine, looking sternly into her eyes.

Morgan sighed, her face becoming more serious. Her hand moved from her neck to her cheek, cupping it reassuringly.

"End what?" She asked with a long breath.

It was Igraine's turn to cup her face. She drew her sleeve over her hand and used it to wipe off the blood from her neck and ear. Morgan let her, closing her eyes at each of her tender brush. The former queen sighed frustrated when she noticed that few drops of blood would still come out from her ear, undisturbed. She shivered: she didn't like when Morgan bled.

"I don't want to lose you." Igraine stated, a chill running up her spine. She'd never said anything like that before to anyone but Arthur and he was her son. Morgan was different. It wasn't a son to whom she was asking not to leave her, nor a parent or a friend, it was a lover.
The thought didn't scare her, surprisingly: Morgan was her home now, not the Castle.

Her oath was to protect the people, Britannia, and therefore her.

The thing was, that it wasn't just politic any more.

Morgan resumed her smile and after a small hesitation, she hugged her, inhaling Igraine's faint scent of rose water.

"You won't." She whispered, trying to comfort her, but Igraine shook her head stubbornly: she knew better.

"I will," She replied. "if you keep that up." She paused and detached from her, just to be able to look into her eyes. "You did everything you needed to do, right?" Morgan didn't quite comprehend where the conversation was going, but she felt comfortable enough to nod once. "Then promise me you won't use your powers anymore. You don't need magic."

Morgan stared for what it seemed like an eternity. She fully considered her words.

She would become queen, she was more than her powers. She was stronger now and she would be victorious. It was just a little thing to give to Igraine. Besides, she had already had done everything in her powers, she'd tap into all her knowledge and invoked the forces to grant her wishes; it was now all in the hands of fate.

She gave Igraine a sincere smile, then she kissed her and made her pledge; she would keep her word, for her.

"I promise."