Please wish me luck on my final exams next week, and on the new endeavor I shall begin this weekend: teaching my horses to go into a trailer. It's gonna be great assuming I don't get bitten, kicked in the head, or trampled.
Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana went their separate ways as soon as they arrived home. Arthur went to the armory to get his sword-belt repaired (though he wouldn't say exactly how it had been damaged), Merlin met with Lancelot to check on the progress of his investigation, and Morgana stayed in the stables, brushing Justinia. Grooming her horse usually soothed Morgana, but today the rhythmically repetitive task brought her no comfort; it only occupied her hands while leaving her mind free to wander, and she did not like where it went.
The more thought she gave the matter, the more she began to fear that the dragons' prophecies might be right. Perhaps she was Merlin's doom. Hadn't she already come close to endangering his life once, when she had wanted to cure him of his magic? She had turned away from that path when she learned that it would end with his death, but at the time she'd thought she would be helping him. What if something like that happened again, and she inadvertently caused him harm while meaning only good? She would have to take more care with her decisions from now on, try harder to foresee all possible consequences of her actions, yet she wasn't sure that would be enough.
Kilgharrah had been very vague about how Merlin would meet his end at her hands - maybe in the end her actions wouldn't matter at all. Perhaps one day he would trip over the end of her skirt, fall down the stairs, and break his neck. How was she to guard against such a mishap, or any of the myriad other fatal accidents she might bring down on him?
The sound of her name drew Morgana out of her increasingly desperate musings; she turned around to find Merlin leaning on the half door of Justinia's stall. "Merlin, you really must stop sneaking up on me."
"I never sneak up on you."
"Then how is it I never hear you coming?" Morgana asked crossly.
Merlin just shrugged. Questioning Morgana's powers of observation when she was already annoyed with him didn't seem like the best idea.
"What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. Gwaine said he never saw you leave the stables, so I thought you might still be inside."
"Has Sir Lancelot found the person who set fire to my chambers?"
"No, he hasn't. I'm sorry."
Morgana nodded and returned to her work.
Merlin wondered why she was acting so blasé, as if she'd lost interest in catching the arsonist. Or maybe something else is troubling her - she's been oddly subdued since we left the mountains. He lifted the wooden bolt on the stall door and let himself in. "Morgana, turn around. Look at me." She obeyed, her movements slower than was normal for her. He took the brush out of her hand and set it aside. "Do you have some injury that I overlooked? Are you in pain?"
"No, I'm fine." Merlin had insisted on healing her scrapes and bruises in spite of her protests that they weren't worth the fuss; physically, she had never felt better.
His fingers curled suddenly around her chin, tipping her head up. "You are not fine," he said forcefully. "You've been too quiet all afternoon; I know there's something wrong. I want to help, but I can't unless you tell me what it is."
"Aithusa…" Morgana's mouth suddenly went dry. She swallowed and went on. "Aithusa led me up into the mountaintops. I heard everything Kilgharrah said - apparently I am your destiny and your doom, and I-"
"Morgana, I'm sorry," Merlin interrupted. "You weren't meant to hear any of that, and next time I see Aithusa I'm going to have a word with her about her meddling."
"Why? She is the only one who thought I should know the truth when everyone else wanted to keep it from me - even you, it seems."
"And now that you know, how do you feel?"
"How do I-? I am confused, and angry, and…and frightened," Morgana admitted.
"That is exactly why I wouldn't have shared Kilgharrah's warning with you. Prophecy isn't as straightforward as the dragons believe - each one offers a glimpse of how future events might come to pass, but none are set in stone. There are hundreds of prophecies that will never be realized, so I didn't want you to be upset by that fatalistic rubbish. I only wanted to protect you."
For a brief moment Morgana was able to believe and take comfort in Merlin's reassurances…but he was wrong. Her dreams always came true, especially the bad ones. As her surge of hope faded, doubt crept in like shadows just before a candle's flame died. Why should Merlin care so much about protecting her? Arthur was the one he needed to fulfill his destiny, not her. As always, Arthur came first. "Were you also protecting me by not telling me that you and Arthur are destined to unite Albion? That you are - what did Kilgharrah call you - the Once and Future Kings?"
Merlin replied that he hadn't told anyone about his and Arthur's supposed destiny, not even Arthur himself, because there had never been peace throughout all of Albion; uniting all the lands was a near-impossible task. Anyone he told that he and Arthur Pendragon would accomplish it would tell him to have his head examined.
"I disagree. Camelot is full of people who believe Arthur is destined for greatness."
Her acidic tone took Merlin by surprise; he had never heard her sound so bitter. "Are you jealous?"
"Of Arthur?" Morgana scoffed. "No, I desire nothing Arthur has; I just wish people saw the same potential in me as they see in him. I've lived in his shadow since I became Uther's ward. I thought things would be different when I met the man I was to marry, but I see now that the true purpose of our engagement was to bring you and Arthur together so you can forge the greatest alliance Albion has ever seen. Don't pretend otherwise," she said sharply when Merlin opened his mouth to protest. "Just give me one honest answer. You've been so kind to me, so thoughtful and caring… Was any of it real? Has it all been a charade for Arthur's benefit?"
"Of course not." Merlin didn't know whether to be insulted that she suspected him of such duplicity or flattered that she thought him a talented enough performer to carry it out. "I won't deny that I saw you as a means to an end at first, but that was before I really knew you. Now that I do…I care about you, Morgana. There is no one I'd rather have by my side."
"Not even Arthur?"
"I can't marry Arthur, can I?" Merlin asked rhetorically. "Even if I could, I don't think I'd want to. I could never feel that way about him."
Morgana moved closer, flicking her hair behind her shoulder and tilting her head coquettishly as she gazed up at Merlin. His eyes, she was pleased to see, were instantly drawn to the exposed curve of her neck. "What way is that, my lord?"
His gaze snapped back up to her face. "Well…the way I feel about you." Before she could push him into a more detailed confession of his feelings, the sound of a man pushing a wheelbarrow into the stable alerted him that they were about to have company. "That'll be Gwaine."
Morgana ground her teeth in frustration as Merlin's demeanor became guarded; she would get nothing more from him with Gwaine around. Gwaine worked his way through the stable toward them, pitching hay from his wheelbarrow into the stalls. When he reached Justinia's stall, he paused. "Moving the royal quarters out to the stables, Merlin? Or were you and the lovely Lady Morgana just having a tumble in the hay?"
"How dare you impugn my honor with such vulgarities?" Morgana demanded furiously.
Merlin put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Let me handle this. You know, Gwaine, a tumble in the hay sounds like fun." He lunged forward, grabbed Gwaine by the shirt, and hauled him head-first into the stall. "Why don't you give it a try?" He then opened the stall door and dumped the wheelbarrow's contents on his friend while Morgana looked on and laughed. "Will you consider your honor avenged now, my lady? If you're not satisfied I could challenge Gwaine to a duel, but it wouldn't be a fair fight - he's better with a sword than I'll ever be."
"That won't be necessary. If I required a duel to avenge the insult to my honor, I would challenge Gwaine myself." She wasn't going to force Merlin to duel one of his friends, nor could she be too harsh with Gwaine, who she sometimes thought was only a short step from being a drunkard. Anyway, offensive as his careless comment had been, he hadn't meant any serious harm.
Merlin and Morgana left just as Gwaine worked an arm out of the hay Merlin had piled over him and uncovered his face. He spat out a stalk that had found its way into his mouth and told Justinia, "You see, that's the trouble with noblewomen: they take their honor far too seriously. Get their noses all out of joint over one little joke. How do you like that, girl?"
The mare lifted her tail and deposited a pile of dung right next to Gwaine's head.
###
"Would you care to escort me to the library?" Morgana asked as she and Merlin crossed the courtyard. "I have a lesson this afternoon and your company would be most welcome."
"I'll take you to the library, but I can't stay."
Morgana's face fell; she'd hoped Merlin would decide to sit in on her lesson and add a bit of color to Theodosius' dry teachings. "Why not?"
"Because whoever started that fire last night is still at large, and I-" He came to a sudden, lurching halt. Morgana, whose arm was linked through his, was forced to stop as well. "I am such an idiot!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's so obvious I don't know how I didn't see - even with Kilgharrah distracting me I still shouldn't have made such a stupid mistake…"
"Merlin, what are you talking about?"
He hissed in surprise and discomfort as Morgana's fingers dug into his arm; he had almost forgotten she was with him, but there she was, and judging by the half-confused, half-annoyed look on her face, she wasn't following his line of thought. "The fire was started by powerful magic, but the protection spells I put on your chambers should have made that impossible," he explained, his tongue tripping over the words in his rush to get them out.
"You said your spells would still allow a small amount of magic to be used within my chambers, though, for Freya's chores and such. Perhaps someone only meant to set a small fire to keep the room warm, and it got out of hand," Morgana reasoned.
"Then someone must have had very bad aim considering how far your bed is from the hearth." Merlin shook his head. "No, Morgana, I felt the spell being cast. The magic behind it was too destructive for a simple household spell, and it was well above the limits I set. I either made a terrible mistake when I put those enchantments in place to protect you, or your attacker somehow broke them. I need to inspect your chambers."
He would have gone there immediately, but Morgana still had a tight grip on his arm. "Are you saying my chambers may not be safe? Should I not return there?"
"Just go to the library and stay there until I come for you. Don't wander off by yourself." He glanced down at Morgana's right hand, assuring himself that her white gold dragon ring was still there. "And keep your ring on!"
She let go of him and he sprinted toward the castle's nearest entrance, finally giving in to the fear rising inside him, making it impossible to keep still. If someone had undone the strongest enchantments he was capable of creating, they were not a foe to be trifled with.
###
"What is he doing?" Gwen whispered. Merlin's eyes were closed, his palm pressed against the south wall of Morgana's bedchamber, and there was an expression of intense concentration on his face. Gwen didn't know what to make of it.
"I don't know," Lancelot replied in an undertone, "but I'd wager my sword it involves magic."
Merlin's eyes snapped open. "I was testing the spells meant to ward these chambers from dangerous magic to find out why they didn't stop Morgana's bed from catching fire. I was afraid the culprit might have broken them, but the wards are still intact. They just failed to respond, so I've been trying to figure out what I did wrong. I've not found any flaws yet."
"Maybe your only mistake was assuming the fire was started by magic," Lancelot suggested.
"It couldn't have been a candle. There were no candles near the bed," Gwen reminded him.
"Someone could have used a candle or torch to start the fire, then taken it with them."
"What about the magical disturbance I felt?" Merlin demanded.
Lancelot shrugged. "It could have taken place elsewhere. You weren't certain the source was in the Lady Morgana's chambers, were you, sire?"
"Well…no," Merlin admitted. "It made sense…but I may have jumped to conclusions. There was no damage of that magnitude reported, though. What else could it have been?"
"A magical experiment gone awry - there are several sorcerers in the palace and citadel who dabble in risky forms of magic. When you were younger, you had a few accidents yourself, Merlin. If the sorcerer was able to contain whatever mess they made, they might not have reported it to avoid trouble."
Merlin agreed that Lancelot's theory sounded plausible; he had covered up a few magical mishaps himself as a child, though Hunith almost always caught him.
"This is a good thing, isn't it? There isn't an evil sorcerer trying to kill Morgana after all," Gwen said happily.
"Is an assassin without magic really so much better?" Merlin asked.
Gwen's face fell. "Well, they must not be a very skilled assassin," she said, trying to salvage some of the positivity Merlin had just deflated. "They failed."
"They were skilled enough to gain entry to her chambers without raising an alarm," Merlin pointed out. "I'll post guards outside the door tonight."
"I think that would be wise," Lancelot told him.
Gwen agreed. "I'm sure it'll make Morgana feel safer. My lord, if I may ask, where is she?"
"I asked her to wait in the library while I examined the wards here; I couldn't have her distracting me while I worked."
"I'm sure she wouldn't have."
Merlin looked mildly surprised at Gwen's sharp tone. "Not on purpose - I know she wouldn't do that. It's just hard to concentrate when she's nearby."
###
Morgana stayed in the library after her lesson ended, amusing herself with a book on the history of the dragonlords. Reading about the great war that had erupted between factions one thousand years ago - it seemed dragonlords did not coexist well with one another - and, once they got their dragons involved, wiped out almost every dragonlord except the Ambrosius clan from which Balinor and Merlin were descended was fascinating, but when she finished the account of it two hours later and Merlin still hadn't come, she began to get impatient. Although she didn't know exactly what he was doing in her chambers, she thought he was taking too long to do it.
After a few moments' debate with herself, she decided to leave the library. Merlin had only instructed her to stay there so he would know where she was, that she was safe; she could be safe elsewhere as long as she stayed in public areas. No one would attack her in front of a crowd of witnesses. Besides, she didn't want Merlin to think he had complete control over her.
She went to Arthur's chambers in search of company and found her foster brother writing a letter to Uther. "Would you like to add anything?" he asked her. "I know Father would enjoy hearing from you."
"All right."
He pushed a fresh sheet of paper and a pen across his desk to her. Morgana dipped her pen in Arthur's inkwell and began to write. Neither withheld news of the fire from Uther - he would be angry if he learned of it from another source and felt that his children were keeping things from him - but attributed it to a candle left burning too close to Morgana's bed. Morgana wrote that she had left it there herself to avoid casting blame on her maids. Uther had no authority over Freya since she was a subject of Dagon, and Gwen technically was as well since she lived in the kingdom, served its future queen, and had given up all rights to her home in Camelot, but Morgana feared Uther might still find a way to retaliate if he believed either of the girls had almost killed his ward.
She and Arthur had just finished their letters when Merlin burst in, startling them and causing Arthur to knock over the inkwell. "Arthur, have you seen… Morgana? Thank the gods you're all right! I'm sorry I made you wait so long; I got caught up in working out how the fire started and I forgot-"
"Merlin, enough. I understand, and I apologize if I worried you." She wondered if he would also expect an apology for not staying where he told her to. She had no intention of giving him one.
"I'm just glad you're okay. So what have you been doing?"
"Arthur and I were writing letters to Uther."
"Which are now ruined thanks to you. There's ink all over my desk too," Arthur said disgustedly.
"Are you saying it's my fault you're a clumsy oaf?"
"No, I'm saying you caused me to make this mess because you're an idiot. And I am not a clumsy oaf!"
Merlin just rolled his eyes. "Revertere in atramentum continentis." The ink flowed back into its container, leaving Arthur's desk and papers unstained.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly; no matter how acclimated he thought he'd become to Merlin's magic, there were still times when he was amazed and (although he would never admit it) impressed by all the things the warlock was able to do with it. Such times were frequently followed by moments like this in which found himself seriously questioning his father's hatred of magic. Cleaning up the spilled ink by hand would have taken a lot longer, and the papers it had soaked into would have been irreparably damaged. Merlin, with his 'unnatural' powers, had cleaned up the mess more quickly and efficiently than anyone could have by natural means, and Arthur caught himself wondering if it would really be so bad to have someone like that in Camelot.
While Arthur pondered how Camelot would change if sorcery were allowed, Merlin told Morgana about Lancelot's theory that her attacker might have set her bed aflame through more mundane means than they originally suspected. Morgana wanted to believe the knight - though she agreed with Merlin that one assassin was hardly preferable to another, she wouldn't be so frightened of facing one without magic - but was skeptical. "I was certain magic was involved," she confided to Merlin. "I felt it."
"How would you know what magic feels like?"
Morgana was too accustomed to sparring verbally with Arthur to be bothered by his slightly derisive tone, but his question rattled her. He was right - she had no way of recognizing magic. So where had her conviction come from?
"Stop it, Arthur," Merlin snapped. "Why do you always talk down to her?"
Arthur gave him a look of sheer bewilderment. "I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you don't." Merlin sounded less angry than exasperatedly resigned. "If you did, you wouldn't be an insensitive dollop-head. Come on, Morgana."
Still confused - Merlin's almost angry outburst in her defense had only added to her disconcertion - she yielded to the pressure of his hand on the small of her back and allowed him to steer her out of Arthur's chambers. "Why did you do that?"
"He was patronizing you."
"He usually does. You've never objected to the way he speaks to me before."
"I've never seen him upset you before."
"It wasn't him, it was what he said. Incredible as it seems, Arthur raised a valid point. I have almost no knowledge or experience of magic, yet I was convinced it was to blame for what happened to me…just like Uther. He sees magical foes everywhere."
"You're nothing like him. There are people with no magic of their own sensitive enough to detect its presence. Perhaps you're one of them."
Morgana stopped dead and grabbed his arm. "Then you think it was magic too!"
"Yes. I can't discount Lancelot's theory - it'd be foolish not to investigate every possibility, but my instincts are telling me you're right."
"Thank you, Merlin, thank you so much! You don't know what a relief it is to hear someone else say it so I don't have to keep feeling like I'm imagining things." Morgana had never been very tactile - Gwen sometimes touched her while helping her dress, and she occasionally embraced Arthur when he would allow it and Uther when he required a show of her affection, but on the whole she preferred to keep her hands to herself - yet at that moment she felt an overwhelming impulse to hug Merlin. Mere words couldn't express the depths of her gratitude, and she desperately wanted the comfort of another person holding her. She wanted Merlin to hold her. Before she could think better of it, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him.
He went rigid. It was a stupid, illogical reaction - people had hugged him before, so it shouldn't affect him like this - but this was Morgana. His fiancée. A hug from her meant something different than if it came from anyone else. I should do something. Push her away…no, I should hug her back. She's already hugging me, and if I don't reciprocate it'll probably hurt her feelings. He slowly raised his arm, wrapped it around her lower back, and tried to will the tension from his body.
He wasn't successful; Morgana felt how stiff he was and pulled back, mortified. "I'm sorry, my lord, that was most unseemly-"
"No, no, it's fine. I understand you're just upset - what you've been through in the past few days is enough to make anyone…act out. We'll just forget it ever happened."
Morgana opened her mouth to say she didn't want to forget; while Merlin's reaction to her embrace was far from what she'd hoped for, she wanted to probe the reasons behind it, to find out why a gesture he accepted so readily from others turned him to a living statue when offered by her, but it was too late. Merlin was already walking away.
So we finally got some progress on the Mergana front…until Merlin freaked out and ruined it. Morgana is now the most frustrated woman in Albion. Should I explain what our favorite warlock is thinking in the next chapter, or leave his thoughts as big a mystery to you as they are to his poor bride-to-be?