-Six-
Old Friends
"She's returned?"
"Yes, Sire." Lancelot surveyed his employer, trying to fathom just how he felt about this latest update. He'd seen Morgana in Ealdor, and she'd been with Ryll.
"Does she know who she is?"
"I don't think so. She and Ryll hit it off right away, but they didn't mention anything from their pasts."
"Do you think there's a chance she might be different this time?" The king's voice ached with longing.
"It's possible," Lancelot answered carefully. His last encounter with Morgana had not been a happy one. She'd raised him again as a wraith and sent him to break Arthur and Gwen apart. When the plan had failed, she'd had him kill himself, forever marring the memory of his character. Merlin had set him free and he had died in peace.
"Do you think she'd remember me?" the king asked slowly, unsurely.
Lancelot hesitated. Did he want an answer or was he just thinking aloud? "Perhaps…"
"I am her father, but I know I messed up before. This is a second chance. I can raise her right. I can help her overcome whatever evil invades her mind."
"She has magic, my Lord. There's nothing you can do about that."
"I can make sure she doesn't fall into the wrong hands," the king said sharply.
"Yes, Sire."
"Any word on Arthur?"
"He still hasn't been found, my Lord."
"Double your efforts. I want him found. Keep watch on Morgana. If she starts remembering, bring her to me immediately."
"Yes, Sire."
"It's time that the Pendragon family was reunited," Uther Pendragon said.
…
The trip to Liz's flat was wet and cold. She and Morgan huddled under the umbrella, trying to coordinate their steps so that they both stayed dry. Morgan's steps were hindered by her high heels which were not meant for such weather. She cursed them frequently, and Liz had to hide a smile. They balanced the suitcase between them, trying to keep it dry too. It was heavy, and Liz wondered if Morgan had packed everything she owned.
"It's not far now," she said. They passed by the Avalon Inn, and Morgan paused.
"Avalon. I never stopped to wonder if the agency stood for something more. If it was just coincidence or if they were named after the legendary place."
"They probably just wanted to fit in. White Castle is decidedly Camelot themed too. It's just a little bit higher class. The supposed ruins of Camelot are close by."
"Who is that?" Morgan asked suddenly.
"Who?" Liz followed her gaze and saw a boy leaving one of the rooms. It was Merlin. He must be staying at the inn, she realized.
"Oh, that's Merlin. He's…well, an acquaintance, I suppose," Liz said.
"He looks so familiar," Morgan said, her voice dreamy. "Like I know him from somewhere… A dream. Maybe. I'm not sure." She shook her head. "I'm being silly."
"He does look familiar though, you're right," Liz said. It struck her as he stood in the rain, looking back at them as if he'd just noticed their presence. When his eyes landed on Morgan, they widened audibly. He looked at Liz, mouth slightly agape. She blinked and suddenly she saw something entirely different.
She stood in the rain, ignoring the cold drips that ran down the back of her dress for it was a dress that she wore. It was deep blue with silver trimming. The fabric was fine, but she didn't move to seek shelter. A figure walked toward her, equally wet. His dark hair hung limply around his head and his blue eyes seemed to shine even brighter in the rain. She felt her heart give a jolt. She was happy to see him, she…she loved him. She took a step forward to meet him and his arms circled around her. She buried her head in his wet tunic. When she pulled away, she looked up into his eyes, so blue and innocent. It was Merlin.
The vision faded, and Liz found herself standing on the street, staring back at the same boy she'd just envisioned. "I…" She looked around, but Morgan was still watching Merlin, unaware that Liz had just fazed out. "I'm cold, let's go," she said numbly.
Morgan tore her gaze away from Merlin, following Liz quietly. She kept looking back, her expression confused. "I could have sworn I had a dream about him," she said softly. "I must be mistaken though."
"I'm sure it was just someone who looked like him," Ryll tried to assure her, but she wasn't sure herself anymore.
She unlocked her flat and closed the umbrella, shaking it outside before shutting the door after them. Owl meowed at once, trotting up. She wound her way around Morgan's ankles. "I hope you like cats," Liz said, watching as Morgan bent down to pet the cat.
"I love all animals," she said. "I'm not allowed to have one in my flat back in London."
"Make yourself at home. If you want to dry off and change, you're welcome to shower. The bathroom is down the hall and to the right. I'll just change in my room and put on the kettle."
"Thank you. A shower sounds wonderful." Morgan dragged her suitcase down the hall and clicked the bathroom door shut after her. Liz changed into a worn pair of jeans and a soft T-shirt before wrapping herself in a sweater and shoving her feet into dry socks and fuzzy slippers.
She filled the kettle with fresh water and turned on the stove. She heard the shower turn on in the other room. How odd it felt to be sharing her apartment with a stranger, and yet Morgan didn't feel like a stranger. Liz felt as if she'd known her her whole life. But they'd just met. How was that possible?
Owl begged for treats, and Liz acquiesced, contemplating all the new people she'd met in the last few days. First there had been the dark-haired stranger who had called her Ryll. Then there was Merlin who seemed to think she was a reincarnated knight of Camelot also named Ryll. Then Morgan had turned up and thought Merlin looked familiar. And at that same moment, Liz had had that…vision of her and Merlin. It couldn't all be a coincidence. She didn't believe in coincidences.
"I don't know anymore, Owl," she said. "Who am I?"
Owl just meowed and began to lick her tail.
…
Merlin ran a towel over his wet hair, standing at the window of his room. He had seen Morgana today, and she had been with Ryll. It couldn't be coincidence that everyone was suddenly showing up in Ealdor. It was like they'd been drawn here. Something was calling them, and so far three had answered. Would it be too much to hope that Arthur was going to walk right into town any moment now?
Merlin shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the few seconds when he had been standing in the rain and Morgana had looked at him like she knew him and then Ryll's eyes had gone unfocused. When she'd come to, she'd looked at him like she'd remembered something. Were her memories coming back? He longed for her to remember him. It was so difficult having to keep his distance when all he wanted to do was draw her into his arms.
If she was beginning to remember, then perhaps not all was lost. Obviously she and Morgana had hit it off instantly in this life as well as the last. Merlin had felt a jolt when he'd first seen Morgana. Would she be different in this life? She might have gained Arthur's forgiveness in the end, but anything could happen now. Merlin wasn't sure who had come back. Would Uther be in this life or Morgause? Who were the players in this elaborate game of fate? This was a second chance for all of them. Maybe he could reach out to her sooner. He'd often regretted this. If he'd told her early on that he'd had magic, if he'd helped her…would she have turned out any differently? He remembered well a time when her compassion for those less fortunate than her had been her driving motivation. She'd been the first to volunteer to help him defend Ealdor when thugs had come to steal crops and harass the people. Would this Morgana remember that? Her hatred for Uther had been strong enough to turn her into someone surprisingly similar to the king. In the end Ryll had brought her back, but the scars couldn't be erased. Nothing was ever the same as it had been before. Morgana hadn't stayed long in the castle before finding a house on the outskirts of Camelot with Aithusa under Arthur's sworn protection. Merlin hadn't seen much of her after that, but then again the memories had been too painful. He'd grown much quieter after Ryll's death. A joke was rare, and he had always felt the weight of her absence.
Perhaps Morgana would make better choices in this life. Merlin wasn't sure how the prophecy worked. He wasn't sure if everyone would come back or just a few. His thoughts went to Gaius… How he missed the physician's comforting words and stern advice. What would Gaius say if he were here now? He'd probably tell Merlin not to meddle. Merlin grinned at this thought. It hurt to think he might never see Gaius again. Gaius had been both a friend and a father to him. Sometimes, even though Merlin had lived so many years, he still longed for some fatherly advice.
He put down the towel and sat down, trying to figure out his next move. Ryll had seemed shocked when she had heard the answer to the last trivia question the night before. Merlin had used his magic to manipulate the card to read that specific question, hoping that upon hearing the answer, Ryll might remember something. She'd seemed alarmed, however, and he hadn't seen any spark of remembrance. He was running out of ideas for sparking her memory. Becoming a knight was the greatest thing that ever happened to her, but even that seemed to spark no recognition. She probably thought he was crazy. He was getting tired of destinies and vague prophecies. Why couldn't everything just be clear? It was like trying to get a straight answer out of the great dragon. It just didn't happen.
Maybe he needed to start at the root of all this. They had all been drawn to Ealdor, so maybe he needed to learn more about the town and its history. He sighed. Maybe it was time to visit the Camelot Museum.
…
The kettle was whistling from the kitchen as Morgan left the steamy bathroom, her rose-colored robe wrapped snuggly around her. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in damp curls.
"How do you take your tea?" Liz asked, turning off the burner and getting two mismatched mugs out of the cupboard.
"Just black," Morgan said. "Unless you have some herbal tea. I have trouble sleeping, so I usually try to drink something soothing in the afternoon and at night."
"I think I have something." Liz pulled out a box of peppermint. "I also have some Sleepy Time tea for later."
"That's perfect."
Liz poured two cups of peppermint. "I hate rainy days like this. Usually Ealdor is much sunnier, but it is storm season."
Morgan looked around the flat, noting the different sketches that were framed on the walls. Another half-finished one sat on an easel. "These are beautiful. Did you draw them?" she asked. Some looked to be done in charcoal while others were spattered with watercolors. A few were done in ink and were artfully spattered. All of them were hauntingly beautiful.
"Oh, yeah. In my spare time, I've taken to sketching out places from my dreams. I'm actually thinking about changing my major to art."
"You're going to university?"
"Well, the community college in White Castle. It's not Oxford, but it'll do."
"That's wonderful. I always wanted to go to university. My life just went in a different direction." She looked more closely at the framed sketch above the couch. It was of a decrepit temple with missing bits of stone. Trees shaded the building and crouched in around it like they were protecting it.
"How did you get into modeling?" Liz asked. Her voice seemed far away. Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that she knew this building. "Morgan?"
"I know this place," she whispered.
"What was that?" Liz was staring at her, her eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Oh, nothing." Morgan shook her head and then turned to look at Liz. "What were you asking?"
"I was just wondering how you got into modeling," she repeated.
"I'd always really admired the fashions of Victorian and medieval times," Morgan told her. "I thought, how amazing would it be to dress up like that? I used to have this book of medieval paintings when I was a child. I wished I could be like those women – so elegant and poised. So I started taking modeling classes. I learned to be elegant and poised. I'm still not wearing beautiful dresses like that, but I'm hoping that will change with this new agency. I'm not so sure now."
"That was odd how the driver and the car just seemed to disappear. Kind of like an enchantment or something." Liz laughed nervously. "I'm not sure why I said that," she added, looking confused. She turned back to the kitchen to tend the teas.
Morgan kept looking at the ink drawing of the temple wondering how she knew the building. She felt lonely when she looked at the picture as if it was somewhere she didn't want to be.
"Here you go." Liz was holding out a steaming mug of peppermint tea. Morgan took it gratefully and sat down on the couch, turning her back on the picture. The painting across from her caught her eye even more. It sat propped up against the wall as if Liz had run out of places to hang her artwork.
"Where is that?" she asked softly. It was of a castle. A very familiar looking castle and yet she couldn't remember ever seeing a castle that looked like that.
"Oh…I'm not sure. Nowhere as far as I know. It's just something I keep dreaming about. There's this castle, and I think it's my home. I mean, in my dream it is."
"That's funny," Morgan said quietly, "because I've dreamt about the very same castle."
