A/N: First of all, many, many thanks to my best friend! She's much more familiar with Ygraine's character from other Arthurian adaptations and is the evil!Morgana to my nice!Morgana, so I asked her to write the journal entries at the beginning of the chapter. So thank you, Rory. 3

Second, thank you to everyone for the comments and feedback on the previous chapter! I've been traveling this week, so I didn't get to respond to them individually, but they were, as always, very much appreciated. :)

15 of December, 1989

Last night, we took the black Aston Martin out of the garage for the gala. Gorlois drove, of course. Slowly. So slowly. The top was down and I was chilled to the bone. In that moment I thought I could never have been colder in my life. But then we arrived and I would have easily traded the warmth for the cold. The gala was so boring. So boring. The same people, the same portraits, the same bloody faces; it looked like Piccadilly at 6pm.

Uther was there. It was the first time Gorlois's business partner attended such an event. They say he's all about his drinks and his women. He spoke to me. He's the worst sort of rogue. He did not appear bored at all at having being forced to attend. Unlike me. 'Smile, love, it might be worse'. When I asked how could this be any worse he replied, 'Well, you might have decided not to come and then, what would have I done?' His smile is his worst feature, his eyes smile along, and he looks like a king who fears nothing and no one. I tried flirting back, and it turns out I still can. 'Nothing, of course! I wonder how have you walked and breathed before meeting me, Uther'. Not bad for an old married woman! 'I wonder the very same, Ygraine'. Right there, in the middle of the NPG, I felt like a witch, circling her cauldron and whispering spells aimed to an unknowing prey! He smiled his awful smile again. Awful, awful, awful! Awful and scorching like the sun. Unknowing but not unwilling, apparently. Until he fled towards the next investor, the next drink, or the next woman. The entire gala was awful. That is no news.

About Uther: I hated him. Scandalously enough, I look forward to hating him again.

20 May, 1990

Uther bought me the showiest piece of jewellery I have ever seen. I wore it to lunch with him and Gorlois yesterday, to test him. Or, maybe, just to remind him what followed his gauche gift. 'I don't care if you don't want me, I'm yours right now' sings Nina Simone, and it's like she sings my words. It drives me mad that he barely has to glance in my direction for me to run to him. I always run. After a while, he moved his hand under the table, under my skirt, and caressed my thigh. I shivered and tried to cover a conspiratorial smile. I failed miserably! We laughed like naughty children! Poor Gorlois looked so flabbergasted! He tried laughing along, even asked 'what?' with the expression on his face of someone who is trying very hard not to look lost. It was comical, really. There we were, the three of us, while my lover touched me indecently my husband was oblivious to everything but his damn plate! Poor, poor man. One never wishes to be mean but, really, how clueless can he be be for not noticing?

28 January, 1991

I will leave her behind. I will leave Morgana behind. All of my possessions are packed. Gorlois will be back on Sunday, but I will already be gone by then. She cries all day long. She rarely sleeps, but I know Gorlois will take better care of her. God knows, I will welcome some sleep myself. Sometimes, when I look at my baby, I wish we could have been a normal family. Nothing has been normal since last year's gala. Nothing since meeting Uther. We found each other and now our bond is stronger than blood, more visceral than giving birth to his own daughter. Uther does not know Morgana is really his. And I did not have the courage to tell Gorlois. He has never been happier than the time he first held Morgana: he's joyful when he feeds her- although, he had the nerve to look appalled when I told him I would not breastfeed, after I just went through the greatest, most painful experience of my life, knowing in my heart that I will soon leave everything I have ever known- he's even joyful when he changes her nappies. He sings to her when she sleeps, I can hear him from our room. He sings to her every night while all I want is silence. Uther will give me peace and silence. We're leaving the city entirely but the destination is a surprise. Morgana just woke up and started crying. Again.

—

She is asleep now. Realising that I will not held her in my arms for a very long time brought tears to my eyes. I packed her things on an impulse. Uther would want her if I told him she's his. And we could hire nannies – an army of nannies – so that we will never hear her cry. I can see Gorlois doesn't understand me. He thinks I should love everything about my daughter or nothing at all. We are not the same. And the fact that I am not ready to renounce to my happiness does not mean that I do not love my daughter. It doesn't mean that I will not cry for her. It means I know I would be a much better person with Uther by my side. Our life together would not suit a child. No, I will need to unpack all of Morgana's things before the nanny and Uther's car arrive. I will leave her with Gorlois. With the scandal to come, he will take comfort in having Morgana with him. I will survive, and with Uther I will be whole again. It's only fair. I cannot live without Uther just as much as Gorlois could never live without the baby. I cannot be the wife he needs, I cannot be his wife at all. But I can leave him my baby.

She's halfway through the second journal when the doorbell rings. The sun is long gone and shadows cover every other surface, making the room much darker than she'd realized. Her phone sits on the sofa behind her, and three missed call alerts and a series of text messages from Merlin greet her when she turns it on.

I'm on the plane. I should be there around 9.

We've landed! I promised Gaius I'd quickly stop by the shop, but I'll be there soon.

Are you okay?

I'm on my way up!

She curses under her breath and jumps up, stretching after the hours she's spent on the floor. Her neck cracks, and she wobbles as blood rushes back to her legs.

The read journals lie at her feet, and she represses the urge to kick one of them. She's too angry, too upset to cry or scream or throw. Horror numbs her every nerve even as logic tells her to ignore her instincts, and she knows as sure as she does that her mother's blood runs through her veins that she needs to turn Merlin away as soon as she can.

Before she falls deeper in love. Before she hurts him and spends the rest of her life regretting what she's done.

She pauses in front of the entryway mirror and runs her fingers through her hair, wishing she'd at least taken the time to dress properly. She places her hand on the door handle, counts to ten, breathes, and steels herself for what needs to come next.

"Hi."

She tries tries to keep her expression cold, but Merlin is standing in front of her, hair adorably mussed and a giant bouquet of white lilies in his arms. The corners of her mouth curve upwards at the sight of him, and the dopey smile on his faces causes her resolve to melt away.

"Hi," she whispers, stepping aside to let him in. "How was your flight?"

"Uneventful." He reaches out for her, and she goes to him, revelling in the feel of his arms wrapping around her, even as her mind screams at her to keep whatever distance she can. "I'm just glad to be back. I missed you so much."

She presses into the crook of his neck as he speaks, and the words cause tears to spring to her eyes. She doesn't want to do what she's decided she has to, doesn't want to push him away when she's missed him, too.

She sniffs, and Merlin stills. "Morgana?"

She takes a raspy breath and leans back, resisting the pull towards him. "We can't do this."

The dopey smile from moments earlier is gone, and frightened disbelief takes its place. "What do you mean?"

Morgana looks away, fiddling with the sleeves of her jumper. "I don't deserve this, Merlin. I don't deserve you."

He cocks his head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a mess. I'm toxic and everyone in my family is toxic. You should be with someone who'll make you happy, someone who –"

"I don't –" he starts and pauses. "You make me happy, Morgana."

She shakes her head, tears stinging behind her eyelids but stubbornly refusing to fall. "No."

"Yes, Morgana. You're the only person I want to be with. Look at me. Please."

She does, and the sincerity in his eyes tugs at something deep within her. "You say that now…"

"No. Well, yes, I am saying this now, but I know I'll be saying the same thing tomorrow and next week, next month, next year. You've become my best friend over the past few months, and I love you, Morgana. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. I didn't even know I could love anyone this much, and I'm not saying this to appease you. Being away from you this week… It was enough to understand that I never want to voluntarily be away from you again." He pauses and her pulse is pounding so loudly in her ears that the look on his face is the only thing that reassures her that she's hearing him correctly. "I'm in this, Morgana. I'm in this for as long as you'll have me."

"I don't know what," she begins but trails off, swallowing. The tears she's held back escape, and her mouth quivers, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or scream.

He watches her patiently, quietly, and doesn't try to jump to conclusions or complete her sentence. She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know anything except that the mix of emotions is exhausting. She takes a deep breath and as he tightens his grip on her waist, she decides that what she wants is to pull him down to her and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

So she does.

And it's nothing like before. The sadness is still there, but the sweetness is replaced by quiet desperation. She doesn't want him to go, doesn't want to push him away, so she pulls him closer, knotting her hands through his hair and curving her body to align with his. He responds to her every move, splaying his free hand against the small of her back and holding her to him.

They only pull away to catch their breath, and Merlin rests his forehead against hers and reaches up to brush away the last of the tears that linger on her cheek. She turns to brush her lips against his hand and quietly says, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Morgana."

"I do. You came all this way, and I love you, too. So, so much, and I still tried to push you away."

Merlin brushes his thumb against her cheek and leans in, stopping millimeters from her lips. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

"So am I."

He kisses her again, forgiveness apparent in the way he lingers, and she wonders how she ever thought she could push him away.

"Morgana?"

They're spread out on the sofa – Morgana laying down with her legs in Merlin's lap, and she turns to find him staring at the pile of unread red journals beside the vase of lilies on the coffee table.

"Yeah?"

"What happened since we last spoke this afternoon?"

She frowns but keeps his gaze. "I found my mother's journals."

"Did you read them?"

"I started to. I skimmed mostly, but the parts I read were enough to understand. I meant it, Merlin. I don't want you to go, but you'd be better off staying far away from me."

"Morgana."

She summarizes the things she's read and adds, "What my mum did to Gorlois… She wasn't any better than Uther. You're going to end up getting hurt."

"You aren't your mother, Morgana, and you certainly aren't Uther. You're the most compassionate person I've ever met."

"No, but I'm scared, Merlin, because, deep down, I can understand them. They loved each other, horribly as they behaved, and I get it – loving someone so much I'd do absolutely anything for them."

"Even send them away?"

"If it meant protecting them? Yes." They both know they're talking about each other, and she reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing to reassure him that she isn't having second thoughts. "Even if it was the last thing I wanted to do."

Merlin shakes his head. "I told you I'm in this, Morgana. I'm staying as long as you truly want me to be here. Whatever you have to face, we'll face together. No matter how ugly, no matter how scary you may think it is."

"What if I turn Uther over to the authorities?"

"Then I'll stand by you."

"Even if I betray my own father?"

"Is that what you're planning to do?"

Morgana fiddles with the sleeve of her jumper, careful not to expose the quickly darkening bruise from her fall. "I think so. It's why I went into his vault."

"Did you find anything?"

"There are some documents. I don't know how Uther was dumb enough to leave them behind, but they should at least serve as evidence that he wanted Tom dead."

"Well I doubt he thought anyone knew the code to the safe. Are the documents enough to put him behind bars?"

Morgana shrugs. "I don't think so. Enough to make him stop playing the victim to the media, though."

"That's still something."

"It is, and I wanted to release the truth about my dad, about how he pushed Gorlois to suicide, but…"

"Now you think your mum might be involved somehow?"

"Yeah. Maybe." She pulls on a stray thread and wraps it around her finger. "I don't want to think that she is, but maybe. I couldn't do that to Arthur."

"He doesn't know."

"He doesn't know any of it, and I've called him. So many times, Merlin, but his phone is always off, and Gwen's phone is off, and I don't know if something's happened to them or if they're just hiding, and I need to act soon – very, very soon."

"How long has it been?"

"Since I've heard from them? Two months?"

"Then you do what you think is best for everyone."

"What if there's another way? Gwen always says that you always have a choice. I don't want to turn out like my parents, Merlin. This would destroy Arthur."

"Then we'll find another way."

"I could just release the documents about Uther and Tom to the media, without saying anything about my dad. He might not come back if he thinks all of London is out for him." She pauses, weighing her options. "But then that still exposes Gwen to the media, and the talk about Tom is only just dying down. No matter what I do, someone is going to get hurt."

Merlin nods thoughtfully. "Where do you think Arthur and Gwen are?"

Morgana shakes her head. "We have a cottage near the sea, but I don't know if they'd be there, or if they're even in the country."
"Is it worth checking out?"

"Are you suggesting I drive out there?"

"I'm suggesting that if you don't hear from them by morning, we drive out there. If they're there, then you can decide what to do together. If not, then you get a day or two outside of the city, and maybe a change of environment will help you make up your mind."

She considers it, pictures the stone house and her tiny bedroom that overlooks the cliffs and the sea and smiles.

They spend the rest of the evening on the sofa, trying to clear their heads. They trade stories and kisses, and Morgana doesn't even notice it's well after midnight until Merlin dozes off mid-anecdote and tightens his hold on her.

Having spent one too many night on the sofa, she has no intention of staying put and absolutely no intention of sleeping without Merlin. Hoping to wake him so that they can move, she trails her hand up and down his chest and lightly kisses him before nudging his nose with her own. When he doesn't wake, she slips her hand under his jumper and t-shirt and tickles the sensitive skin above the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes flutter open at that, and his mouth quirks into a bemused smile as he mutters, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to wake you up?"

Merlin groans and, pulling her hand out to intertwine their fingers together, turns onto his side to snuggle into her.

Morgana smiles and brushes an unruly lock of hair away from his forehead. "Come to bed?"

He hums and mutters, "'m comfortable here."

"You won't be in a couple of hours."

"I will be if you're here with me."

Morgana's eyebrows rise in tandem, and she smirks. "Sleep makes you sappy, Merlin."

"You make me sappy."

Morgana laughs and sits up. "Well you aren't going to be up to being sappy if you wake up with a crick in your neck. Come on."

She crawls over him and stands, tugging on his hand.

"I don't want to."

"I won't make you wear the dragon pyjamas this time."

"But I liked the dragon pyjamas."

"Then you can wear the dragon pyjamas, or I'll wear the dragon pyjamas. Anything. Just please come to bed, Merlin."

Merlin sits up, grinning. "You'll wear the dragon pyjamas?"

"No. They're my brother's!"

Merlin pouts, looking much too put out by the prospect.

Merlin is only too happy to climb into her big, comfy bed once she gets him off the sofa, and he falls back asleep, happily wearing the ridiculous dragon pyjamas, as soon as his head hits the pillow, and of course – of course – she doesn't. She tries to match his breathing for a time, counting and trying to clear her mind, but she ends up tossing from side to side.

As exhausted as she is, and as comforting as it is to have Merlin beside her, her mind refuses to shut off. The visions from her nightmares play out before her, twirling through her thoughts and mixing together with the things she'd read in her mother's journal.

She sees herself as a villain and as an abandoned baby, and anxiety works its way into her bloodstream, pushing sleep farther and farther away. Breathing at all becomes difficult, let alone at a specific rhythm, and it quickly becomes apparent that staying put is going to do more harm than good.

Weighing her options, she slips out of bed and quietly pulls her suitcase out of the closet to begin to pack.