A/N: As per usual, big thanks to the reviewers! And for those who wondered-I can't write Arthur in a Mergana story because Merthur is my OTP, and I find writing Arthur so he isn't with Merlin or wanting to be impossible, and since the focus of this is Merlin and Morgana…it gives me headaches. So he must DIE.
Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own Merlin. I just want to huggle him.
Life in Camelot is strange.
Sometimes, you enjoy it. The food is far better than it was at the Isle, and there's greater variety than in Tintagel. Gwen is a good maid, always eager to please. You love the way she puts flowers in your chambers.
Uther Pendragon seems to like you. He makes conversation with you, and there are times you almost respect him. More than that, there are moments when you pity him. Uther Pendragon walks as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
But there are moments you hate him. You've only been in Camelot two weeks when you first witness an execution. The man is elderly, and he gets on his knees before Uther, pleading. He says that he only wanted to help his son get a child on his wife.
You feel a stab of sympathy, from where you sit. Uther gave you a smaller chair by his enormous throne, and you're often seated there while he conducts business. Now Uther stands above the man, and his eyes harbor hatred.
"Then you are a fool." The man cries out as Uther gestures to a guard. "Throw him in the dungeons, I want him hanged at dawn."
Nausea rises in you as the brawny guards haul the hysterical old man to his feet and drag him away. You can see yourself there, the meaty hands of the guards wrapped around her waist, Uther turning away as he does now, with cold satisfaction in his gaze.
"Morgana, I want you by my side at the execution." You can barely restrain horror. He wants you to watch as one of your own people dies. As one of your own people dies at the hand of the man who is now your guardian.
"My lord…" His eyes narrow. You realize that you can ill afford to make him suspect you of any sympathy at all. "I have never witnessed an execution before."
"Yes, Gorlois was always softhearted."
"He was a merciful King." You counter, sharply. You may be bound to his will, but Uther Pendragon will not act as if your father was anything but a great king. You tip your chin up and meet his eyes defiantly.
They soften. "I do not argue that."
Uther must have been at least twenty years younger than your father when they were friends. Perhaps your father mentored him, help him learn some of the ways of Kingship. But you rather doubt that, because your father was a just man and Uther gave the order for a man who did no harm to be hanged.
"I am glad. He used to tell me stories about you, when I was a little girl." Uther looks surprised. You smile at him, and pray that this distracts from any horror you cannot hide. "He said you were a great swordsman."
"So was he." Uther says gruffly. "A very honorable man."
"He taught me swordplay." You comment. If Uther's face is anything to go by, he's favorable to you now. "I would love the chance to test myself against your knights."
"You will have it. After the execution." You nod.
The next day, you dress in a deep purple gown and stand at Uther's side above the platform. The people of Camelot must have morbid taste-there's a horde of people, all staring with hungry eyes at the old man on the gallows.
You barely contained a shudder of revulsion when you see that there are children in the mob. Little ones perched on their father's shoulders, some jumping up and down to see over adults, and a few lucky kids at the front of the crowd.
The man has to be hauled to the gallows. He's stopped begging for mercy, now he just hangs limp in the arms of the guards as they slip a noose around his neck. His white hair hangs over his face.
You turn your head away when they kick the boards from under his feet. You squeeze your eyes tightly closed and try not to hear the gurgling noise as the noose tightens round his neck. You crack open your eyes to watch his feet kick wildly.
Uther turns to look at you. You're thankful that you cracked your eyes open.
"He deserved this." Uther's voice is loud enough for every child in the street to hear. "Those who practice magic are evil, and he should not have tampered in such forces."
What did magic ever do to you? You desperately want to ask. But though Uther is clearly satisfied that another sorcerer has died, he's not in an indulgent mood. You lift your chin and train your eyes on the old man, trying to not see him while appearing to observe his dying convulsions.
He doesn't die until the sun is low in the sky. The old man was skinny, his weight must have not been enough to strangle him quickly. Uther allows you to leave when the guards are cutting his body down to be burned.
You go to your chambers. You let Gwen undress you and path your shoulder and whisper that she's sorry you had to stand up there for so long. You close your eyes.
"It's awful." You murmur. Gwen makes a noise of agreement, but no further comment. She's not a fool.
"Morgana." She takes your hands. "Be careful. I know you were not raised here, but since Prince Arthur's death, the King is more paranoid than ever. The weeks after he died…" Gwen flinches at memories. "Everyone burned."
You shudder. You have had dreams of fire, and you've burned yourself in the frustrating attempts at fire magic Nimueh forced you into. Burns are terrible, and the thought of being burned as a witch is terrifying.
"Thank you, Gwen." You smile at her, and fear that it makes you look like a ghoul. "I understand."
Gwen looks like she doubts you do. That's fine. She certainly doesn't understand the fear that makes you cautious, and it's better that she doesn't. Gwen curtsies and leaves. When her footsteps fade, you fling yourself to your knees and vomit into your chamber pot.
It's not a week later that there is another execution. This time you force yourself to not take your eyes from the woman as she is dropped into the well with iron weights on her feet. Uther watches with approval.
You dream one night of whips hitting flesh and flaying it open. You wake up not screaming but retching. Gaius is still trying to make you a draught, but the most any of them have done is turn your stomach as you drink them.
Gwen comes in that morning humming cheerily. You try to mirror her sunny attitude.
"Well, what's gotten into you Gwen?" She blushes. You laugh. "Come on, out with it."
"Gaius has finally gotten himself an apprentice. I've met him." You raise your eyebrows. This is good news indeed. It will free some of Gwen's time, and save Gaius from his constant tramping around the town carrying bags.
"And how is he?" Gwen keeps blushing.
"He's very sweet. His mother knew Gaius, apparently, and now he's finally come to Camelot though his mother died a very very long time ago." You smile slightly. Gwen clearly likes him, and she has good taste. You sit down and begin writing a letter to the steward at Tintagel. Gwen tidies your chambers.
She leaves to fetch some flowers to brighten the room, and you think that when she comes back it will be time to prepare for the banquet. The door opens while you're behind the screen figuring out what dress to wear.
"Gwen, which gown do you think is best? Should I go for blue, or wear the red and really give the boys a night to remember?" You call over it, sliding the simpler green gown down from your shoulders as you go. You're giggling as you say it.
"Um…" That's a masculine sounding um. You turn your head, instinctively putting your arms over your chest though only your shoulders show above the screen. You look over the screen, and meet gorgeous blue eyes.
"Merlin." You breathe. It's him, grinning at you like the sun. You push the screen away and fling yourself into his arms. You holds you close, and you feel relief like nothing you've never felt. You're not alone. "What are you doing here?"
He releases you, and you realize that your bodice is around your waist and your shift is hardly decent attire. It isn't decent for you to be alone with him at all. You cough and shake your head so long black tresses fall over your breasts.
"I came because I don't think you should be alone here." You smile at him. He smiles sheepishly. "Nimueh and I had an argument over it, but Gaius was a friend of my mother's, so I knew I'd have a place. Besides" he adds "I never wanted to spend my life in the Isle."
You can understand that. Merlin, despite his being nice to everyone, didn't seem to have any real friends there. Besides you, Sophia was the only one there near his age, and she was hardly friendly.
"I'm glad you're here." You say softly. He takes your hand, and you feel like someone cares for you. It's wonderful, and you haven't felt anything so reassuring since you last embraced your father.
"So am I. I feel like I'm meant to be here." He grins at you. "Oh, and I have a draught from Gaius for you."
You remember the last time Merlin wanted to help your dreams with shame. You take the vial of scummy looking liquid, and grimace. Merlin laughs at your expression.
"Don't laugh, you've never had to taste one of these! They're disgusting."
"I know. You don't want to know what's in it." Merlin responds cheerfully. You decide he's probably right. The door to the chamber creaks. You remember that this is dreadfully improper, though Merlin is a gentleman enough to not be looking anywhere but your face.
You push Merlin back a few steps and bolt behind the screen just as Gwen walks into the room.
"Gwen, could you pass me my red dress?" You call over your shoulder, face to the wall. There's silence, then what sounds like a suppressed laugh from Gwen and the door closing. There are two doors to your chambers, and both Merlin and your maid used the smaller one, which isn't guarded.
"Here my Lady." Gwen walks in, looking amused. Merlin must have bluffed her. "Are you wearing it to the banquet?"
The banquet is a celebration for something like the birthday of one of Uther's ancestors, and you don't see the point of it. But now you've got a reason to look good.
"Yes, I think so." Gwen is obviously wondering who you've decided to impress. You're not foolhardy enough to admit to anything.
"Well, Morgana." Gwen folds her arms. "You're certainly going to attract some eyes."
"I hope so." You hope they're beautiful blue eyes, and you hope they darken with lust when they see you. Gwen binds up your hair and you put glittering gold on your wrists and waist.
You enter the hall, where all the other nobles are in their finery, and no man can keep their eyes off you. You idly pick up a strawberry and eat it just to torture them, all the while searching for Merlin.
"Morgana." You turn and curtsy to Uther. He is looking at you strangely. "You look stunning."
"Thank you. It is an old dress." You say modestly.
"I know." Well, that's somewhat insulting. The dress may be old, but it looks good as new, probably because your mother never wore it much. "I remember your mother wearing it."
"Do you?" You ask, surprised. You didn't realize that Uther knew her well.
"Yes. It was before you were born." Uther sounds old. He walks away and at last you spot Merlin in the crowd. He's clearly trying not to stare. You flash him a secret smile, and half the noble men in the vicinity's mouths drop open. They all hope that it was directed at them.
The possibility that it went towards the boy keeping an eye on the drinking occurs to none of them. Merlin however, knows perfectly well who you were looking at, and blushes.
You glide away to talk to a minister, and feel like at last something worthwhile has been accomplished at one of these ridiculous celebrations.
The problem, of course, is that you cannot see Merlin alone. For a start both of you are busy. Merlin's a good physician-you remember how he healed your hands-even without magic, and he usually ends up being sent all over Camelot to help the lower town. You have your letters of appeal for the poor.
It's a campaign you've taken up, helping the poor. You know that it's better form to simply sow them shirts all day, but that would be boring, and you accomplish more with one letter to a noble you flirt with at dinner (all the while enjoying Merlin's gaze) than a month of shirts.
So really, the time you two are both free is usually the evenings, after banquets.
But if were Merlin to be caught, in your rooms, alone, in the evening? You don't want to think about it. So you snatch conversations in Gaius's chambers, quick whispers in deserted hallways. You make it a personal mission to find the places in Camelot no one goes.
It's while looking for them that you stumble upon a picture of the late Queen Igraine. The hallway is deserted, though clean and lit with torches. Her portrait hangs high on the wall, clearly in a position of honor.
You've never seen a likeness of her before. She's very beautiful. Her hair is a light shade of blonde, and she has high cheekbones, and bright green eyes. The Queen wears a red dress, though it's not an overly sensual one, and her smile is beautiful. Her painted eyes stare from the portrait with a gaze somehow full of love and gentleness.
Actually, she looks a bit like your mother. You step closer, fascinated. Uther never speaks of his dead family.
"She is beautiful, is she not?" You start violently. Uther came up behind you with no warning, and it sends shivers down your back. When you've something to hide, a King who is so light on his feet is terrifying.
"She is, my lord." You respond, your voice as steady as you can make it. This will not be a place to meet your magical friend. "Many in Camelot must still mourn her death."
It was when Queen Igraine died that Uther's war on magic began. You weren't born yet then, you were born a few years later, and you pity those who came to life in a time of such death.
"I know." King Uther stares at the portrait. His wife smiles down at him, and it occurs to you that mercy died in this Kingdom when childbirth took her. And all that, just to have the son she died for killed by a witch twenty years later. "Morgana, I want you to understand the way of things in Camelot."
"I think I do." You understand. Uther has a fit of paranoia, a peasant who may or may not be a practitioner is executed. Uther shakes his head.
"You do not. Magic killed Igraine."
What?
"I beg your pardon, my lord?" Uther gestures for you to come closer. You do, fascinated. Was it the fault of the good Queen that your people are persecuted? That's some irony.
"I had a friend, long ago, who was a sorceress." His tone goes ugly on the word sorceress. "My wife and I needed a child, to secure the throne. She swore that by means of the old religion she could give my wife one, and I, naïve fool that I was, trusted her. She said there would be a price, and I said I would pay it."
You remember that in one of your first lessons, Nimueh told you that magic always had a price. You thought that price came in weariness and headaches, not blood.
"She lied. When Igraine was dying in childbirth, and I told Nimueh to save her, Nimueh laughed in my face, and told me there would be a life for a life, and I had agreed to this nine months ago." Sadness and hatred mix in his words. You almost don't hear it.
Nimueh? Nimueh?
"W-what?" Your voice shakes. Your beautiful, cold, teacher, was the one who brought this onto your people?
"Nimueh was a beautiful sorceress, and her heart was black. She thought to bring down Camelot itself." He looks at you. "I know that you do not often enjoy the duty of eradicating magic, but you can see that it turns all who practice it into monsters."
"Yes, my lord." You whisper. You glance up at the beautiful Queen again, who smiles so benevolently. Perhaps she was a twisted shrew, and Nimueh killed her for that. But you have trouble believing that, for every story you ever heard about Queen Igraine from your father was that she was a wonderful woman, and you have absolute trust in your father.
"I'm glad you understand." Uther pauses. "If you wish, you may train with the knights today."
You spend that afternoon in mail, raining blow after blow on knights. You're a bit out of practice, but soon they are falling under your blade like children. Your face is obscured by the helm you wear, and you're grateful. They can't see your eyes, and the horror that lingers in them.
Merlin passes by the fields. He stops to grin as you smack the blade from Sir Owain's hand and slam your hilt into his ribcage. You turn and lift the eyepiece of the helm, shooting Merlin one pleading look.
He freezes. You stare, praying that he understands. Merlin nods, barely perceptible.
You must talk to him. Merlin must have some form of answers for you. You're not sure that you trust Morgause to be honest with you, but Merlin has said that he's quarreled with Nimueh, perhaps the witch doesn't hold the influence over him that makes her master at the Isle. Merlin is honest.
You go back to bashing a new knight.
Merlin arrives in your chambers that night as soon as Gwen has gone, holding two glasses of wine.
You let him in and close the door.
"Nimueh killed Queen Igraine." You whisper to him. Even in your own chambers, you can almost feel your teacher's eyes. Merlin stares, and slowly puts down the wine glass. "Did you know?"
"No." He murmurs. "I knew that Nimueh had history with Camelot, but nothing like this."
"A history?" Merlin passes you the wine, and you take a drought.
"I came to the Isle when my mother was killed by bandits, a few years before you got there." Merlin shivers. "Nimueh was…intense. She wanted me to use magic to wipe Uther off the face of the earth."
"You didn't?" Merlin shrugs.
"That's not the right way to use magic. She couldn't make me, and she knew it." You drink more wine and wonder just how powerful Merlin really is. He sighs. "I think she wants you to kill Uther instead."
"What?" You exclaim. You may be a warrior, and Uther has killed so many of your people…but to kill him?
"Well, she talked to Mary Collins for a long time, and Mary killed Prince Arthur…with magic, I might add." Merlin says the last words wryly. You remember that awful dream.
"You can't be saying that what he's doing is justified."
"No!" Merlin closes his eyes. "But I think Uther is a sad, bitter old man, and that Nimueh should never have killed that poor woman. I can't see why she would, she could have killed Uther himself. That's what he agreed to."
You think they were probably lovers. Nimueh is horribly beautiful, and feeling as though he'd conspired with a mistress to kill a wife would provoke stronger feelings than that of some strange enchantress killing her. It would make him feel more betrayed.
"Who knows." You say. "Nimueh may have just been being cruel."
She's certainly adept at that.
"She's good at that." Merlin agrees with your thoughts. "Did you ever figure out the fire magic?"
"No." You say bitterly. You hated those lessons. You don't like being burned.
"Can I help?" Merlin smiles at you. Gold is beginning to gather beneath the blue.
You hesitate. But no one is here. You haven't gotten to work with magic since coming to Camelot, and your desire to burns in your chest. You nod. Besides, you harbor some curiosity towards Merlin's magic-how does he know how to use it, if Nimueh never taught him?
"Forbernum." He takes a hand to his mouth and breathes into it. Your magic stirs as his eyes turn gold. With it stirs desire for him. Merlin holds out his hand to you, and a flame is cupped in it. "Here, take it."
"I'll burn myself." Merlin shakes his head and smiles. Your hand goes to his of it's own volition, and his palm slides beneath yours. The fire ends up cupped in your hand, and Merlin is holding it. You can feel Merlin's gentle magic cupping your hand, but it's your magic that holds the flame.
You laugh with sheer delight, to be here doing the impossible, to be with Merlin, to be alive and with magic. It courses through your veins, stirred by Merlin's gift. You turn to him, face alight.
Merlin moves forward and kisses you. You kiss him back, loving the gentle feel of his lips against yours. Your magic roars in your ears, and the flame you hold grows, sparking and going through a full spectrum of colors. When Merlin draws away, smiling, it's burning a pure white.
You stare him, breathless.
"We can't." Merlin's face falls. "We're both in enough danger already."
"We can protect ourselves!" Merlin insists. You shake your head rapidly.
"No! Merlin, if Uther ever catches you here, you'll be killed, and if Morgause finds out she'll be furious, and I'll have to marry one day! I'm the King's ward and the Princess of Tintagel!" Merlin takes his hand from yours. The flame is still burning white, fueled by your magic, but you feel very cold.
"Fine." Merlin gets to his feet and down his glass of wine.
"Merlin!" You call before he can leave. "We…we can still be friends."
"I'm glad." Merlin leaves. You stare at the flame in your hand, which is flickering out. You close your fingers into a fist and extinguish it. Then you try to go to bed, and stay up all night picturing Merlin's eyes.
You still talk to Merlin. That doesn't change. He looks at you differently though, with sad eyes. Gwen comments that you don't seem well. Uther eyes you over dinner and inquires as to whether you need a physician's care.
You reassure both that you're fine. Eventually you even the heart to laugh with Gwen, over one lord's pathetic attempts to woo you. It's not the same laughter as with Merlin, but it feels good.
Then Merlin bursts into your chambers. Your mouth falls open, because he's got a pale little druid boy with him.
"Merlin, what?" He slams the door shut. The warning bell is tolling over Camelot.
"I didn't know where else to go!" He says desperately. You both look at Gwen. "He's just a child."
"Quick, put him behind the changing screen." Gwen hisses. You want to embrace her as Merlin hurries the boy behind the screen, but do not. Then Gwen might think this is more than the same sympathy for children she herself possesses.
"He was afraid and in the square." Merlin says rapidly. "The guards are searching for him."
On cue, there is a knock at the door. The three of you stare at each other, wide eyed. There is another, harder, knock. You can't refuse to let them search, that will endanger your own life, but where to put a child…
"Merlin, get behind the screen." You rush behind it with him and push his head down. "Crouch!"
He does so. The boy simply collapses, his eyes rolling up in his head.
"Gwen, answer the door." You order. Gwen flicks you a wide eyed look, and you duck behind the screen as well, but stay standing. You thank all the forces of nature that you aren't wearing a lace up dress as you jerk it down around your shoulders.
"What?" Gwen demands from the guards.
"A boy has escaped, and King Uther has ordered that we search every room in the palace." One pushes his way past Gwen. He stops short when he sees you behind the screen with your bare shoulders. From his view, there's no evidence you're wearing anything at all.
Merlin, who is pressed against your leg, muffles a laugh. You kick him.
"May I help you?" You say acerbically. The guard is turning red. "By all means, search my chambers. I'll watch from here."
You fold your arms and glare. The guards sweeps the chambers with one look and turns, mumbling that he's satisfied you aren't hiding the boy. You sigh in relief when the door closes, and Gwen mirrors you. Merlin laughs.
"That was bloody brilliant." You grin down at him as you pull your dress back over your shoulders. Gwen coughs. "Gwen, thank you."
"He's an innocent child." But Gwen is looking at Merlin with soft brown eyes, and an unpleasant feeling roils in your chest. He grins back at her. You swallow.
"Is he hurt?" Gwen comes behind the screen. Merlin pulls away some of the boy's sleeve, and there's a deep wound there. Gwen gasps. "They used their swords on him." You say. Anger threatens to overwhelm you.
How can you defend the man who orders this? You look at Merlin, asking that with your eyes. Merlin looks at you wearily, and has no answer. Gwen crouches and pulls out a handkerchief.
"What are we going to do?" She asks in a whisper.
"Contact practitioners." He looks at you. That will be your duty. You can send a letter to Morgause, and she will doubtless ride here to take the boy. "When I've treated his wound, we'll get him out of Camelot."
"Okay." Gwen says nervously. "What can I do?"
"Cover for us." Merlin tells her. She nods, setting her shoulders. "Can you go tell Gaius that I'm finding the materials for a hangover cure, because Sir Percival had a late night?"
"I will." Gwen gets to her feet and rushes out. She flicks one look over her shoulder at the three she's leaving-a royal ward alone with a peasant, and between them a criminal. But you have faith in Gwen.
Once she's gone, Merlin spreads his hand over the boy's wound. You watch as his eyes glow gold, and his brow furrows. No words, just as with your burns.
The boy shudders. The skin around his wound is turning a light pink. Before your eyes skin meets skin and forms, leaving a red line and sensitive looking skin around it. Merlin takes Gwen's handkerchief and begins cleaning the blood off it.
The boy opens his eyes and looks at both of you. You reach out and take his hand.
"My name is Morgana. Don't worry. You're safe here." His eyes are the palest shade of blue-green you can imagine. They study you in a disconcerting way. But at the same time, you feel like you would give your life for him.
I know. He says in your head. You whip your head around to stare at Merlin.
"I heard it too. It's a talent the druids have." He tells you softly. The boy has fallen asleep, his head in your lap. "How soon can you send word to Morgause?"
"Fetch me pen and paper. I'll start now." Merlin does. You begin to write, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy. Merlin sits next to you, his hand on the boy's forehead, his eyes occasionally glimmering gold. You think he's chasing nightmares from the boy's head.
When Gwen returns, having brought back a request from Gaius for feverfew, Merlin gets up. The boy's eyes snap open. Merlin crouches down again and touches his hand.
"I'll be back. Don't worry." The boy nods and huddles closer to you. His eyes on Gwen are suspicious. But they ease when Gwen shows you the fresh sheets she got for your bed, and instead begins putting them down behind the screen for the boy.
You leave the boy in Gwen's care when you go to dinner. All Uther can talk about is the boy, and how he will be drowned when they catch him. You can barely force food down your throat.
That night, you send a falcon for Morgause. You sleep on the floor next to the boy, and both your dreams are fraught with anxiety.
His father dies in the morning. Gwen holds him as the axe falls and your mirror shatters. She lost her father to Uther as well. Merlin and you watch the execution. Your eyes meet, and you know that his neck itches just as yours does.
Gwen stays up with you that night. She wraps an arm around your shoulders.
"You're a good woman, Gwen." You say to her quietly. Gwen smiles softly.
"No one can say no to Merlin." Your heart sinks. Gwen is a sweet girl, an uncomplicated girl, a girl Merlin would be able to love without secrets. Merlin would be a fool not to take her.
"I suppose not." You shrug and try to appear diffident. You're not sure if Gwen is buying the act. The boy whimpers, and you reach down to stroke his brow. "The poor boy."
"I'm surprised at how you care for him." Gwen comments. "I know of course that you would always care for an innocent child because you're really very nice but you seem…different with him."
"It is. It is a bond Gwen, one unlike any other." The only possible comparison is your feelings for Merlin. But you have no desire to kiss this boy anywhere but his brow, nor do you feel the same overwhelming urge to protect Merlin.
Gwen is silent for the rest of the night. In the morning, there's a note on your window saying that Morgause will be in the forest tomorrow night. You will enjoy being reunited with your sister, even if only for a few moments.
"We're getting you out." You whisper to the boy. "To safety. To a place no one can harm you." With the possible exception of Nimueh, but no need to get into that. He nods. Merlin walks in, not knocking. As usual.
"I know how I can get him out." He announces. "There's a secret passage behind the biggest shield in the armory that leads out of the citadel. From the lower town I'll be able to leave through one of the gates."
"I will take him." Gwen and Merlin instantly protest. "If either of you get caught, you'll be killed on the spot! I have a chance of getting off with a warning." Steel enters your voice. "I won't let my friends die."
You also want to be the one to deliver him to safety. It's strange, but you feel like it is your right, like you wouldn't feel safe if Gwen or even Merlin did it. You must be the one.
"Fine." Merlin relents. Gwen nods reluctantly. He steps up to you and crouches down as if to examine what's left of the boy's wound. Instead he whispers in your ear. "If you're going to be caught, say "arahat merkala nox". It won't make you invisible, but if you're in the shadows it'll keep you from being noticed."
"Thank you." You both hope that it won't be necessary to use it. The three of you sit behind the screen until Merlin is called away to help Gaius. Then it is only Gwen clasping a dark red cloak around your shoulders and patting the little boy, as he clings to your side.
As soon as the sky is dark, you run. You take the boy by the hand and rush through the more deserted hallways (the ones you know of because you wanted ways to be alone with Merlin) and try not to make a sound. You see a maid out of the corner of your eye, and run faster.
The warning bell tolls as you boost the boy into the passage. You rush down it, praying that this will not be the time the guards of Camelot show some competence. A shout echoes down the passage, and the boy holds your hand tighter.
You cannot believe how much your are risking for him, as torches shine behind you. You must remember to thank Gwen for this cloak, for it hides any clues to your identity. The guards probably think you are some druid woman.
The boy whimpers and you jerk him around a corner. You're in the lower town now, which means there will be twisting streets and shadowy corners. There will also be citizens about, citizens who will think nothing of turning you in.
You plunge into a corner and draw your cloak around the both of you. You whisper Merlin's incantation and feel magic rising, cloaking you. Everything in your vision darkens.
Guards rush by your corner, looking at it and seeing nothing. As soon as they've passed you run, and make it out of the town because the guards were too stupid to cover the exits. They have no leader to direct them, after all.
You take the boy into the forest, and Morgause is waiting on a silver stallion. There's a smaller horse next to her, with an empty saddle.
"Morgana!" She dismounts and embraces you. "I was afraid you'd be caught."
"No, don't worry. We're safe." You just need to make your way back into the castle. Morgause gets on one knee and looks the druid boy in the eye.
"My name is Morgause, boy." You frown at her, and she gentles her tone. "Do you know where we're going?"
"The Isle of Bardsey." You start when you hear him speak. He turn his head to look at you. "Thank you for taking care of me, my lady."
"It was my pleasure." You respond. You bend down and hug him. Morgause smiles fondly.
"I'm taking you to study under the greatest of all practitioners." His eyes are suddenly chips of ice.
"You are wrong. Emrys is the greatest practitioner." Morgause sours to see Nimueh talked of so. You sort of want to giggle.
"That's a legend." The boy looks back at you like you two share a private joke. You don't understand it, but you smile back at him because you will miss this boy. It's odd, but you want to raise him, perhaps with Merlin, and teach him magic yourself. "Come."
He follows her towards the horses.
"Wait!" You call. "I don't even know your name."
"Mordred." He says over his shoulder. Morgause twitches. You watch them ride away into the night, then prepare to go back into Camelot. First you discard the cloak-if you're caught sneaking back in, it will incriminate you. You wore your plainest green gown in the hopes that no one would look closely at you.
But you cannot change your face to not be the King's ward, so as you slip back into Camelot you whisper a prayer. It is in vain, for before you've gone three steps in a guard spots you and yells.
You stop, and lift your chin, glaring.
"Yes?" Your voice drips ice. Being the King's ward is the best defense you have right now. He freezes.
"Ah, I'm sorry My Lady, but the King ordered that there was a curfew tonight and anyone who violated it was to be brought to him on suspicion of helping the druid boy escape." You laugh scornfully. He looks intensely embarrassed. "My Lady…"
"Fine, take me to him." You toss your head and march in front of the guard, into Camelot. Uther is in the throne room, with a goblet of wine. He stares when you are brought before him.
"Morgana?" He asks incredulously. You curtsy, hoping to brazen through.
"My Lord." Uther looks angry. He isn't going to laugh and let you go to your chambers. You search your mind for a good lie.
"What were you doing outside?" He sounds on the point of suspicion. You let your cheeks color, though you try to disguise that it's fear that's flushing your face. You duck your head.
"I…my Lord, it is somewhat embarrassing." He is silent. You sigh. "You know I am grateful to you for taking me in. It seems that I have done nothing in return, though you show me such kindness. I wanted to see if I could find the boy."
Uther laughs the laugh of the surprised man. You clasp your hands together and look up defiantly.
"I have my sword, I was prepared!" Still laughing, Uther motions the guards away from you.
"Morgana, you are a delight to my household. But that druid was dangerous, and you should not have been in the lower town alone. Something could have happened." You sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. You are a foolish girl, who is being shown wisdom by her elders and betters.
"Yes, sire." Uther chuckles again.
"My Morgana, out catching druids. I am not sure whether to pity your future husband or think him the luckiest man in the world." You hope that you are not paling. You always knew that this loomed on the horizon, but the mere mention still comes as a shock.
"Husband? You are looking for one?" Uther shrugs.
"Oh, always. You don't look pleased at the prospect of marriage."
"I like it here in Camelot, and how am I to know that my future husband shall treat me as well? And where in the world might I go that would compare to the grandeur of Camelot?" That will tickle his ego.
"One can never see what the future holds." Uther dismisses you after that enigmatic statement. You go to your chambers, where Gwen is waiting. She smiles brilliantly when you walk in, and as she unlaces your dress you can tell she is relieved. Gwen is a friend, she must have feared for you. It is nice, having a friend.
But despite that, when you're in bed, it is Merlin you cannot stop thinking about, wondering how afraid for you he was. You try not to wish he was with you.
You stand frozen. You clutch your skirt, knowing that your nails will mark it and still not able to stop. You stare down into the courtyard.
Gwen is laughing with Merlin. He makes an expansive gesture and she holds out a purple flower. Your knuckles are turning white. Merlin puts the flower in his neckerchief, and for a brief moment, you hate Gwen.
You turn from the window in anger and stride to your seat to be furious. Gwen bustles in, putting the other flowers in a vase and chattering about her brother and his swordsmanship.
"Get out." You snap at her. Gwen blinks and stops, obviously bewildered. "I want to be alone."
"What?"
"Did I stutter? Out!" Gwen rushes out and you stew in silence all day, unable to write or brush your hair and do anything at all useful. You sit there alone, and cannot understand why you would gladly murder Gwen.
She'd be good for Merlin. It's dangerous for you and Merlin to be together. As evening comes around, you realize you don't care. You throw a white shawl around your shoulders and stride through Camelot for the physician's chambers.
Merlin opens the door with a ready smile. It's a smile you could look at every day of your life without getting tired of.
"Morgana?" His smile melts into concern. You push him into the room and shut the door behind you. You don't even bother looking to see if Gaius is there.
"I don't care."
"What?"
"I don't care about danger. I don't care about any of it." Merlin still looks confused. You grab him and kiss him, and if Gaius is there then let him gawp. Merlin puts his hands on your waist and kisses you back.
When you break apart, Merlin is still confused. But he is obviously happy.
"We'll have to stay secret." You add. Merlin nods.
"Um, not that I object, but what brought this on?" You blush. Gwen's flower lies on a table.
"Gwen and you in the market." Merlin laughs.
"Gwen is just my friend. Not that this means you should not feel that way, because I don't care either." You think that Merlin is extraordinarily oblivious, because you're rather certain that Gwen feels more than friendship for Merlin.
But, as you rest your head on his chest and feel his arms around you, you don't care.
A/N: For anyone who cares, I listened to: back to December by Taylor Swift (A song I don't even like but which has a very excellent Mergana video on you tube) and "Come what May" from Moulin Rouge.
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